


Onto Greener Pastures and Brighter Skies

by Syfris_Plath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Invisibility Cloak, Master of Death Harry Potter, Snarky OC Snake, The One Ring - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 58,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syfris_Plath/pseuds/Syfris_Plath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter has done it: the Dark Lord Voldemort has been defeated. Yet this victory has come at a great price: namely, the eradication of the entire human race. Wizards, muggles, and creatures alike perished in the Great Wizard War (part two) and now Harry is alone left, cursed with the title of the Master of Death and an extended life to watch as the cockroaches start their own civil war. So, Harry does what any wizard with too much time and too little common sense would do: he goes “traveling”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Traveler’s Guide

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also posted on fanfiction.net under the same title if you want to check for updates there as well!
> 
> Disclaimer: As J. K. Rowling is an awesome pen name and includes no miscellaneous numbers, it should be obvious that she is the true author of Harry Potter, and I own naught but my own thoughts and the twelfth “the” in this story. Oh, and I also don’t own Lord of the Rings, or any other movie/book/TV series one of the characters may happen to reference.
> 
> Warning: Pay no attention to the title. I haven’t the faintest clue as to where I am going with this, but as the first chapter has demonstrated to me, this won’t be a serendipitous story in any way, unless I am bitten by Tinkerbell and develop spastic bursts of uncontrollable, potentially hazardous glee. If that is the case, my account shall be put on hiatus until such a time that my quest for revenge is acquitted and I am properly restored. Thank you. 
> 
> Author’s Note: As this is my first story, I welcome constructive criticism, ideas for future chapters, and helpful pointers to any errors in context or grammar I have made. If you have any rude, vulgar, or pointless comments that will contribute absolutely nothing to anything anywhere that you feel the need to vent, I would humbly suggest that you purchase a diary to express your feeling to. Maybe one day it will capture a part of your soul and possess a young girl in order to go on a killing spree via giant snake. I’ve heard it happen.

Harry sat on the ledge of Gryffindor Tower, intently studying his thumbs as they slowly circled one another, sizing their opponent up, searching for the twitch that would begin their battle to the death. The air was still, dust particles hanging in place, unwilling to interrupt the tense atmosphere of the oncoming duel. Wait! There it is! And here we go-

Heaving out a sign, Harry flopped down on his back, flinging his arms over his eyes. At first his inner banter was a fun distraction from his situation, but now it was getting tedious and just a tad bit pathetic. Although, now that all the bodies had been buried (the Death Eaters were all burned with a convenient _fiendfyre,_ and Lord Voldey had a special little memorial as the carnivorous-charmed Cornish Pixies devoured his flesh) and Hogwarts had been fixed up, there wasn’t much else to do other than twiddle one’s thumbs as suicidal thoughts ran their creative course through one’s mind.

Ever since the battle at Hogwarts took place, the war had been going downhill for the light side. Harry had been able to fire a severing hex at Voldemort’s head, but with Nagini, the final horocrux, still alive, the Dark Lord was able to apparate away and the battle ended as a destructive draw. The single battle had been nearly as devastating as the entirety of the first war against Voldemort. Many great wizards were lost, including Remus Lupin, Harry’s last friendly tie to his parents, Remus’s wife, Tonks, and George’s twin, Fred.

Anyone who openly opposed the Dark Lord was targeted, along with their families, and with their supporters dropping like flies, the Order of the Phoenix was experiencing a severe drop in moral. The light side’s reluctance to kill led to ten Death Eaters being broken out of Azkaban for every one the Aurors captured, while dozens of light wizards were murdered in battle, their families killed in raids. Without Dumbledore to lead them, the light side looked to their last beacon of hope: a seventeen year old boy, busy grieving his own losses.

It wasn’t until the death of one of Harry’s closest friends, Hermione Granger, that he snapped out of his own head and decided to end the war at any cost. The sight of his best friend, the smartest witch in her year at Hogwarts, the epitome of grace and intelligence, lying on a cot in the Hospital Wing, minus two limbs and a heartbeat, gave Harry the perspective he needed to become serious.

He, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood began training with the best Aurors left, including Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Harry started to read the numerous books in the Black Library, given to him by his godfather, Sirius Black, in his will. Harry even briefly traveled to Japan to be taught by a master swordsman, Sensei Kenshi, determined to fully prepare himself before facing Voldemort again.

He returned to an Order half the size that he had left it.

Inevitably, the wizards' fighting leaked into the muggle world, and the left over cold war paranoia led to the realization of MAD. The United States and Russia managed to blow the world up, with only the pockets of protected wizard society remaining untouched, but not unaffected. The surviving wizards, realizing too late the immense power of muggles, flocked to the light side, seeking a nonexistent undo button. The Dark Lord, left with only his snake and a rat, was practically defenseless in the Malfoy Manor, and it was far too easy for Harry to put a bullet in between the eyes of the mad man who had caused the literal end of the world.

The death of the world caused the magic to drain out of the environment and the remaining wizards, leading them to a slow, painful demise. All, of course, except The Boy-Who-Lived. All of Harry’s friends besides Luna had been out in muggle society, trying to defend the civilians against the pillaging Death Eaters when the atomic bombs had detonated, sweeping the wizards away with their fiery waves along with the billions of others taken. Only Harry remained, nursing the last of the survivors as the life was ripped from their bodies, cursing Voldemort for shooting an Avada Kedavra at him, and himself for having all three of the Deathly Hallows on him at the time. Evidently, the objects were not just a children’s story to warn against foolish greed. Dying in the possession of the Deathly Hallows truly did grant the holder the title of the Master of Death, along with the extended life that comes with such a hefty title.

 _And to think,_ Harry thought, a bitter smile twisting his lips, _the one thing that Voldemort feared, Death, could have granted him his one wish._ Harry sighed as he got up, removing his arms from their iron grip around his head. Instead, the stupid git had to give his dream to his enemy, possibly the only person who truly abhorred the thought of never being able to die, to forever be denied to chance to see his parents in the afterlife. _Oh well._

Harry flipped up from his position, abandoning his useless thoughts of taking a flying leap, knowing from experience that it was a futile endeavor. Swiftly walking down the corridors to the Headmaster’s office, Harry pointedly avoided looking at the Hospital Wing, Luna’s death only two weeks ago still too fresh in his mind. The loss of the last living human on the planet had hit him even harder than he thought it would have, considering Luna had held on for thirty two years after the destruction, twenty five years longer than anyone else,  just to “help keep the nargles away”, according to her. She had kept Harry sane, brightening his day with her wondrous fairytales and even playing Quidditch with him, despite her lack of interest in the game. Sometimes they would just fly together, leaving their troubles hundreds of feet below. Even when she became too weak to leave her bed, Luna still took care of him; together they doodled in muggle children’s coloring books and sang nursery rhymes to pass the time.

A smile ghosted over Harry’s face at the memory, his eyes briefly flashing in amusement before he refocused, briskening his walk. He bypassed the silent gargoyles standing guard before the Headmaster’s old office. Harry had done his best to reconstruct the castle to how it was before it had been demolished in the Battle of Hogwarts, but the magic had long ago left the ancient stone walls. The stair cases no long shifted according to their fancy, the ceiling of the Great Hall lost its enchantment to appear as the night sky, and the paintings had ceased to move and talk, the spirits of the portrayed wizards extinguished along with everything else.  

Once he reached the dusty room, Harry abruptly stopped. With a quick flick of the Elder Wand, the grand office was restored to its former glory, Dumbledore’s knickknacks twinkling on the shelves in resemblance to the late Headmaster’s eyes.

“Kreacher!” Harry barked out sharply. Out of all of the brave house elves that died in battle along with their masters, the miserable elf of the Black family was the only to survive due to his tie to Harry. He had considered breaking their bond and allowing the creature to join his precious mistress in the afterlife, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the last source of company he had, no matter how unpleasant. Although, soon that would no longer be an issue.

Years ago, when Harry had been going through the Headmaster’s office, which was the last room he had repaired due to the memories it held of his beloved departed mentor, he had stumbled upon an old book titled _The Traveler’s Guide: A Getaway For The Terminally Bored Witch Or Wizard_.

On the first page, an incantation was written that would apparently transport the caster to another world, though its name wasn’t mentioned anywhere. The book held several maps, journal entries of previous users (including Dumbledore himself) a list of the various creatures inhabiting the planet (he would have to avoid the goblins; they were evidently even more nasty than in his world), and even a dictionary of the most widely spoken languages.

Kreacher popped beside Harry, the ever present grimace deepening on his face at the sight of his half-blood master. “Yes, _Sir_ ,” the house elf spat out.

Harry ignored the nasty attitude. “I need you to bring me my trunk.” He had packed all of his belongings (his battle armor, the shards of his old wand, his parent’s photo album, the Sword of Gryffindor, a modified golden snitch, and a picture of him and Dumbledore’s Army from sixth year) the day after Luna’s death and had only been waiting to gather the courage to leave his one true home, Hogwarts.

As soon as Kreacher returned, Harry grabbed his trunk, set it down by his feet, and turned to face the miserable house elf.

“Kreacher, as your master and the last head of the most Ancient and Noble House of Black, I officially release you from all of your duties to the family and myself.” Harry pulled out an old shirt from the folds of the Invisibility Cloak draped over his shoulders and presented it to the elf.

Fingers trembling, Kreacher took the piece of clothing. With watery eyes, he slowly lifted his head and gave a shocked Harry a watery smile.

“Thank you,” Kreacher whispered. His body began glowing as the bond disintegrated between the elf and the wizard. Without a source of magic to keep him alive, Kreacher fell to the ground, his gray skin losing its last hue of life.

Harry sighed. While he despised the creature most of the time, Kreacher had been there for him when Luna died, standing ramrod straight next to him on the side of her death bed, even offering Harry a handkerchief once he pulled himself together somewhat. The little being’s passing was sad, but it comforted Harry to know that Kreacher would be happy to reunite with the pureblood family he had served for so long.

With one last look around the room that had been a safe haven to him as a young boy, Harry took a deep breath and picked up the traveler’s guide from the impressive desk overlooking the rest of the space. He sat down on his trunk and flipped the cover open.

“De veteribus et novis praeterita mundi morosa lucida mundi futura, est in potentia ad relaxat enim a tempus. Et forte in meliorem vitam, si invitus, nolo revertere, et habita in solem*.” Harry chanted the spell, words rolling off his tongue with ease due to the hundreds of times he had practiced them. With his infamous luck, he thought it was likely that he would mispronounce a word and be sent to a planet full Dementors in the middle of national orgy day if he didn’t memorize it beforehand.

A shiny white mist with all of the colors of the rainbow sparkling within it formed around Harry, and he quickly shot up and gripped the handle of his truck, nearly dropping the book in the process. He prayed that everything came with him; the book mentioned nothing of the previous users arriving with nothing on them, but then again, showing up buck naked in an unknown place wasn’t exactly something the five powerful wizards who had used the spell before would admit to.

Closing his eyes, Harry smiled widely as the magic wrapped around him, eager to start his next great adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Latin spell roughly translates to “Of old world's morose past and new world's bright future, the potential to relax for a time has come. A chance at a better life, if by choice, I choose not to return, and stay in this new sun.” It is a random stretched rhyme that I thought up typed and into Google Translate. Hope you weren't expecting some deep message or anything:).


	2. Magical Miscalculations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll given you a hint, Harry didn't end up in Wonderland........

Harry snuggled down into his arms, enjoying his reclined position as the warmth from the sun was tempered by a soft breeze. The comforting noises of a forest surrounded him and Harry knew that once he got up he would need to help Ron and Hermione pack up their camping gear so that they could continue their quest for the Horocruxes. Determined to seize as much time as he could before his friends woke up, Harry sent out a light wave of magic to make them rest a bit longer.    

“Chirp, chirp, chiii-ck!” Harry shot up at the screech before crouching close to the ground, whipping out the Elder Wand on instinct. He swept his gaze over his surroundings, feeling a sharp pang in his chest as the last few decades made their presence known in his mind. Harry was no longer a sixteen year old boy on an adventure with his friends, no matter how little he had aged to prove it. He was now a stranger in a very, very strange land.

The forest surrounding Harry was vastly different from any nature found in the UK. The trees seemed skyscraper high and the undergrowth was so dense that it would be near impossible to try and venture away from the cleared paths designated by trodden-on dirt. The canopies of leaves provided a gloomy atmosphere, which was only accented by the silence not usually observed in natural settings.

Harry shivered slightly. Something felt off about this place; this feeling was similar to the one he got whenever he took the first few steps into the Forbidden Forest. The air felt thicker, though breathing had never seemed so effortless. It was as if his lungs were accepting the air of this new world more readily than that of his own. The thought was slightly disturbing.

Turing to the source of the disturbance that had woken him, Harry tilted his head in puzzlement. The raven on the ground looked as though it had been hit by a _stupefy_ , lying in a slightly warped position underneath the tree that it must have fallen from. Harry frowned. He had never been very good at wandless magic, and had only ever managed to slightly influence the feelings of those around him with nonverbal spells, even after he had mastered the Hollows. Pointing his wand at the bird, Harry murmured “ _Rennervate_.”  

A blast of black light shot out of the Elder Wand, pushing Harry back as he fell with a yep onto the grass. The bird suddenly shot up, whirling madly, right into the wrong end of a low hanging branch it must have been previously occupying. Harry gaped in horror at the poor animal, before turning his twitching gaze to the intricately carved stick resting innocently in his hands.

Dropping the wand as if it had turned into a boggart, Harry frantically looked around him for the Traveler’s Guide, diving for it a meter away near a stream. Lying on his stomach, Harry tore at the clasp of the brown leather book and frantically flipped through the pages. He faintly remembered reading something about increased magical potential in one of the journal entries, but he had been more concerned with learning the languages and studying the various creatures of the world rather than reading the ramblings of crazy old wizards.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , Harry berated himself. The facts were always useful to know and he was sure that his language skills would be put to the test soon enough, but firsthand experience by others in his same position was invaluable and the entries deserved to be more closely inspected.

Harry sighed in relief once he found the page he was looking for. He absentmindedly reached up to adjust the round glasses that no longer resided on his nose and began reading, skimming through the paragraphs to find the answers he sought.

**_Date: the air tastes like a Tuesday_**

**_It has been about three weeks since I have arrived in this new world and I am sorry to report that the trees are just as standoffish as they were back at home…….. didn’t even say thanks when I shooed away a ladybug looking to nibble at her fine leaves……… all the water tastes like salmon…….. mentioned something about a “One Ring”……. My magic has been acting odd….._ **

 "Aha!” Harry yelled, pounding the ground in triumph. He focused on the section in the middle of the page, squinting as he tried to read the wizard’s scribbled handwriting.

**_My magic has been acting odd, doing things without my express permission, and all of my spells seem to be amplified. I used a modified version of aqua eructo to fill my cup with water, and ended by nearly drowning in the waterfall that subsequently appeared. I cast a simple accio to retrieve my bag, and it bludgeoned me in the stomach. The bruise still hasn’t healed…_ **

Harry winced in sympathy and sent a cautious look over at his heavy-set trunk. The two golden buckles seemed to be glaring at him as the crack between the lid and body turned up at the sides in a sadistic smile. Shuddering, Harry made a mental note to avoid any spells until he learned to get his magic under control. It had been years since he had needed to use a healing charm and his knowledge was rusty at best.

**_I felt the incredible amount of wild magic in the air as soon as I got here, but I never imagined that it would react with mine to such a ridiculous level. I am almost afraid to leave this forest lest I run into some unfriendly beings and am forced to use my magic to defend myself. I can only imagine the destruction that would take place if I were to lose control. I must train myself and prepare for anything that comes my way. Unless the trees come seeking vengeance for the wood I used to build a house. Then I am doomed._ **

**_With an uncertain fate ahead and no extra undergarments packed,_ **

**_Rooveus Roden Rodolph_ **

So that was what Harry had been sensing. _Wild Magic._ He faintly remembered Hermione mentioning it in one of her many “educational” rants, but he had tuned out early on once the words “Oh _honestly_ Ronald, why do I even bother” fell from her lips. Ron’s laziness had been nearly as legendary as Hermione’s studiousness, and their clashes were something Harry had made a sport out of avoiding. He even awarded himself a few first place metals when he managed to evade some of their more nasty spats, which were signified by beat red checks and steam-expelling ears.  

Harry set the book back down and rolled onto his back, throwing his arms above his head. Well there it was. He would have to relearn everything, from the most basic spells up, with only a book as guidance. _Ah,_ Harry thought, looking sideways at the guide, _I really wish one of those wizards could just pop out and help me. Their rants are sporadic and riddled with nonsense. Or, at least what I think is nonsense._ Harry shot a look at a nearby tree, daring it to move and prove Rodolph sane.

After a few seconds, Harry shot up, something the wizard had written sparking a light of hope in his personal cloud of depression. A house. Rodolph said he had built a house out of wood that was possibly from this forest. There was a house, potentially nearby, built by a _literate wizard from his world._

Harry grabbed the guide from the forest floor and walked over to his truck. He held out his wand, prepared to cast a point-me charm, when the words froze on his lips. That’s right, verbal spells wouldn’t be such a good idea right now. _Oh Lord, not a trunk to the stomach._ He couldn’t afford to risk another chance for his magic to blow up in his face, yet sitting here and waiting for the animals of the forest to come looking for a daytime snack wasn’t an especially appealing option either.

Carefully placing the Elder Wand into one of the many hidden pockets of the Invisibility Cloak, Harry closed his eyed and decided to try to use nonverbal magic to pick up a trail. Harry pictured a wooden house in a clearing much like the one he was standing in inside of his mind. The trees would stand tall and proud, puffing up their ladybug-free bushels of leaves. A beam of sunlight would fall right at the doorstep of the little, but sturdy hut. It might even look like Hagrid’s in fact, well-worn and well-loved.

Harry suddenly jerked to a stop, opening his eyes. In his hands was his feather light-charmed trunk, the book tucked away, presumably safe in his cloak. He didn’t remember picking his luggage up and he most certainly had not begun walking without knowing where he was going. Yet, in front of Harry stood the exact hut that he was imagining, right down to the blades of grass blowing lazily in the wind. Harry blinked a few times. _That was really creepy._

Looking back at the house, Harry set his trunk down and decided that he might as well go in, seeing as it looked like it had been abandoned for a long time. The two wooden steps groaned alarmingly as Harry stepped up onto them and the rust around the doorknob cracked and broke off as he turned it, showering his shoes with a reddish rainfall. The interior was surprisingly clean considering the outward appearance of the hut, setting off alarm bells that Harry promptly ignored for a later time.    

A fake bearskin rug decorated the floor of the main room and carved patterns of leaves adorned the walls. A moderately size kitchen stood in the back left corner with no furnishings to announce the change except a four person table and a fire pit with a cauldron hanging over it, sans holder. This was most definitely a wizard’s home. A couple of armchairs littered the space and a comfortable looking couch sat across from a …….minibar. _Now that just looks out of place._ And there, making up the ensemble, was an ancient-looking book shelf, carved with care, carrying dozens of familiarly bound texts. _Oh, thank Merlin._

Harry was about to explore this discovery further, when he heard a faint familiar squawking coming from outside. Harry frowned, quickly squashing the hope that bubbled up in his chest. It couldn’t be, everyone from his world was gone, casualties in mad man’s bid for immortality. Yet, the sound continued, reaching a higher pitch as of the animal knew that it was being ignored and wasn’t taking too kindly to the revelation.

Turning around, Harry slowly made his way out of the cottage and peered up at the sky, cupping his hands around his face to block the glare of the sun. There, torpedoing down to her friend, prepared to peck his brains out after giving him an affectionate reunion grooming, was a speckled-black white owl, wings extended as if offering a hug.

“Hedwig?” Harry gaped, shock and elation warring within him as his dearly-missed owl swooped down to him, a rolled up scroll grasped tightly in her claws.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t help it; I love Hedwig so much that she just had to come back. Don’t fret though, all shall be explained soon enough. Also, I don’t think anyone else will be making a surprise appearance, so don’t hold your breath expecting Luna to jump out of a lake to appear in front of Harry in a tutu…. Actually, now that I think about it….. But no.  
> So, like my vague Stranger in a Strange Land reference? My mind resisted, but my hands typed it out regardless. This will be my recommended book of the week, I suppose.


	3. Death’s Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for some explanations....

This chapter’s dialogue might get a little confusing, so here is my guide:

“Severus Snape” = verbal speech

 _Legolas Greenleaf_ = Harry’s thoughts/ the little voices in his head

 **< Ron Weasley>** = Parseltongue

 

Harry studied Hedwig intensely as the owl preened her already pristine feathers, blatantly ignoring him. After her arrival she had swooped down to him, wrapped him in her wings in an exceedingly awkward yet satisfying reunion, and then flew off to find dinner. Harry had spent the following ten minutes frozen in confusion before Hedwig came back to devourer an unfortunate rodent in front of him. They were currently engaged in a very one-sided staring contest, with Hedwig hopping back several paces for every step Harry tried to take towards her, the mysterious letter dangling from her left claw taunting him.

“Alright girl, please take pity and throw me a bone here. The curiosity is killing me.” Harry finally begged, tired of their little game and eager for answers, his main question being how his dearly departed owl was currently perched atop a rock in front of him. Hedwig didn’t appear to be a ghost and she seemed to possess the same affectionate, playful personality his owl used to have. Yet, the image of his white speckled friend falling from the sky after taking a Killing Curse meant for him was too clear in Harry’s mind for him to take the miracle at face value.

Hedwig hooed and flapped her wings a bit before she finally relented and shuffled towards Harry. She stuck her leg that held the letter out, which Harry thankfully took, a grin on his face at “winning” the contest.

“Let’s see what we have here,” Harry murmured as he lifted his hand to break the black seal holding the parchment in a rolled position. As soon as the wax was broken off, Harry let out a short scream as a foreign presence ran over his magic, inspecting and probing as it went. Curling into himself, Harry quickly erected the Occlumency shield that he had been working on for decades in his mind in case the invading magic wanted to go there next.

Finally, after several minutes the presence seeped away from the wizard, seeming satisfied that the opener was the intended receiver. Harry crawled away from the letter, which had warped itself into the unmistakable shape of a Howler, and berated himself for opening unidentified mail, a mistake he had stopped making in his Second Year after the Parseltongue incident, which had resulted in a lot of cursed letters and Howlers. Yet, Hedwig had never delivered anything unsafe before.

 _Yes, but are you even sure this is **your** Hedwig? _An obnoxiously sensible voice made itself known in Harry’s mind. Shrugging it off, he turned his attention to the Howler presently grinning at him as it floated a few yards away from him.

“Good evening, Mister Potter, I trust we are having a fine day,” the letter began in a surprisingly pleasant voice that held an underlying patronizing tone. “It had come to my attention that you may have a few questions regarding, well, quite a bit, and I don’t want you to feel scared or **alone** ,” Harry gritted his teeth and had to suppress the urge to throw a stinging hex with his wacked out wand at the Howler, “ so I have decided to come and explain. Unfortunately, I am quite busy at the moment and have no time to spare, not even for my beloved **master** ,” Harry’s stomach dropped as dawning horror clawed at his insides, “so I brought back an old friend of yours to help along the transition. Making Middle Earth your new home may take some adjustment, but I have overwhelming faith in you, master, and I am sure you’ll do fine. Just be sure to stick to the paths and take the crossroads as they come. And beware the King of Gondor; his rule relies on you. Yours **Forever** , Mandos.”

The Howler ripped itself to shreds as Harry paled at its last few words; they had sounded suspiciously like a Prophecy. He was most definitely not getting involved in another one of those, seeing as the last one had led to the destruction of literally everything and everyone Harry had ever held dear. The Wizarding World had given him the best friends he could ever want and delivered to him the godfather he hadn’t known existed, before tearing them all away from him, one by one. Even if the fate of an entire kingdom rested on his shoulders, Harry was content to just sit in his wooden hut, practicing magic and caring for his last remaining friend for the rest of his days. _Just keep telling yourself that, Harry. Denial is important in a hermit._

As he starred at the scraps of paper dancing around on the forest floor, Harry pondered their sender. While the idea of Death, a universal entity that, to his knowledge, had never really conversed with the living or taken a physical form, sending him a relatively polite Howler was hard to swallow, the rather pointed clues were difficult to dismiss. Beside, Harry was technically the Master of Death, which had already proven to be more than just a fancy title to add to his vast repertoire, so maybe it wasn’t too weird to be getting an obnoxious letter from it. _Not to mention I am the sole survivor_ _of an extinct planet, so I guess Death has taken a special interest in preserving me._

Harry finally stopped examining the ground and looked sideways at his owl, who had taken the liberty to place herself on his shoulder once he had vertically righted himself, unwilling to face a Howler lying down.  At least he had gotten Hedwig back; she was his first friend before he had met anyone from Hogwarts, bar Hagrid, and he supposed that reanimating actual humans was harder than bringing an owl back to life. At least Harry really hoped that it was and that Death wasn’t just messing around with him. He was already Fate’s plaything; he really wasn’t interested in being another all-powerful being’s entertainment.

Harry realized that he also now knew the name of this new world: Middle Earth. Snorting, Harry shook his head. This place looked nothing like his world from what he could tell, but the coincidence of names was still funny. Walking back into Rodolph’s hut and plopping down on the couch with Hedwig flapping after him, irritated at her perch’s movement, Harry pulled out the Traveler’s Guide and flipped to the first map. Absentmindedly silently transfiguring the Elder wand into a quill and a random leaf settled beside him into an ink bottle, he wrote _Middle Earth_ in big, loopy letters on the vacant top left corner, in his eyes completing the lacking map.

Feeling better about his situation now that he had accomplished something and the foreseeable future was hopefully surprise-free, Harry sprang up and headed to the kitchen space, his wand reverting back to its original form. He would have to explore the other rooms that the two doorways indicated branched off from the main area and make arrangements for the night later, but for now he would need a snack so that he could begin training his magic. While Harry had the Sword of Gryffindor tucked safely away in his trunk and was more than proficient at using it, wards needed to be put up around the house if he intended to continue living there, which he did. Harry wouldn’t dare try such complicated spell work until he regained control of his magic and there was no time to begin practicing like the present.

~ Four Hours Later ~

“Nox! Ahhhh!” Harry screeched, clawing at his eyes in an attempt to shield them from the sun-like blaze that alighted on the tip of his wand. Harry flung the Elder Wand into the stream that ran parallel about a mile behind his hut for the fifth time. The space was exactly what he needed; it contained trees that blocked him from any prying eyes that might wander by, though Harry had not yet found any signs of civilization beyond the forged trails, and the fish from the lake were perfect to practice the Levitation Charm on. However, his blind training wasn’t going well at all, and the once beautiful alcove had been trashed; the bark of the trees was covered in burn marks, the grass had turned a dull brown within the first hour and most of the fish had become accidental casualties. Hedwig had long since abandoned the hazardous zone to catch up on her own flying practice.

Harry yelled in frustration and climbed up a mostly untouched tree. He faced away from the water and crossed his arms, refusing to retrieve his wand this time. The sun was already beginning to set and every single spell and hex he had tried so far was a complete disaster; he couldn’t even manage a _Wingardium Leviosa_ with his wand without the focus of the spell rocketing skyward. At this rate it was going to take him years to build up the control necessary for warding, which, like most of the higher level wizardry, required a wand.

 **< Hum, what do we have here? A sssily little human has entered my domain. This is unheard of and unacceptable; sssomething must be done.>** Harry heard the hissing to his right and tilted his head, only to spot a gorgeous snake unlike any other he had seen before. Its light brown skin had a black diamond pattern with an oval of green in each center running down its back, which blended in perfectly with the tree that housed it. The snake appeared to be about two meters long and was rather slim circumference-wise. Its jade green eyes, similar to Harry’s own, analyzed the wizard that sat on a branch a few over from the one it was wrapped around.

 **< Well, I have never met a snake in a tree before, so this is a first for me as well.> **Harry was mildly surprised that he could still speak the serpentine language. He hadn’t tried since he got rid of the Horocrux that had taken up lodging in his head for the first decade and a half of his life since he had been busy with the war. Afterwards there hadn’t been any snakes left to test if he still possessed the rare Dark ability, so Harry had written it off as an unsolved mystery. It seemed that once spoken, Parseltongue couldn’t be unlearned.

 **< Yesss, well be that as it may...>** The snake suddenly reared back, its hood flaring out in surprise. < **Who sssaid that? Was it you, meatbag? >**

Harry raised his eyebrows at the rude snake. It was almost cute, with its head tilted to the side and its tongue extending and flickering rapidly. < **Well it certainly wasn’t the fish in the creak. Because, you know, they are dead and all >**

 **< Ah yessss.> **The snake sighed in delight. < **I thought I sssensed those pompousss jerksss getting their just desertsss. But who are you? I have never heard of a two-leg who ssspoke to one of my kind before. >**

 **< I am Harry. I don’t know about anyone else, but I happen to enjoy the company of a sssane sssnake every once in a while.>** Harry recalled the little garden snake he used to chat with when he was working on his chores in the garden at the Dursley’s house during summer break, as well as the one he had helped to enact a daring escape with at the zoo on Dudley’s birthday. Most snakes he had met were either thrilled to speak to a human, wished to use him to further their own interests, or were simply ambivalent to him. The only truly awful snake Harry had ever met was Nagini, and she had been polluted by Voldemort’s madness.

 **< Well,> **the snake simpered, < **I suppose it is an honor to meet you Speaker Harry. I’ll just be on my way then. >      **

 **< Wait!>** Harry called out to the retreating reptile. < **Do you have a name?  You don’t have to leave yet. And it is just Harry. >** Hedwig probably wouldn’t be too happy about sharing Harry’s attentions, but this snake was the first interesting being that he had talked to since Luna passed away. Not to mention, until he could get his magic under control, Harry probably wouldn’t be able to interact with other humans for a while and a steady source of conversation would help to keep the impending loneliness at bay.

 **< Sssnakes sssuch as I have no need for a name. I am sssimply the official guardian of thisss tree.>** The snake glumly admitted.

 **< Hmm, ssso maybe we ssshould sstart off with a name.>** Harry looked closely at the snake, whom revealed himself to be a male, and tried to think of anything other than “Diamond”, which had made its way into his mind and refused to leave. The snake deserved a proper name, not a cutesy one based off the pattern decorating his skin. Harry suddenly remembered the name that Death had called himself in his letter and grinned as the perfect name for the snake became clear.

 **< How about Manny? It is the name of a _dear_ friend of mine. >** Smiling widely, Harry hoped that Death was watching from wherever it was he spent his free time.

‘Manny’ was nodding thoughtfully. < **Yesss, I sssupose that name will do. Now come Speaker, >** the snake hissed, sliding over to Harry and wrapping himself around the wizard’s offered arm. < **The time has come to fulfill your evolutionary duty and feed your snake**. >

Harry chuckled; Manny sure had gained confidence quickly. They were going to get along swimmingly.

The two chattered along as Harry trekked back to his home. He froze once he broke the tree line a little ways from the back of his hut. Standing tall and animated were, _oh dear Merlin,_ what appeared to be tree-people. Huge arms of bark extended from their torsos and the trunks split midway down, creating legs that ended in two root-feet. The four giants had ancient faces with moss growing impressive beards around all of them except one. The oldest of the tree-people walked up to Harry, closing the meager distance in half a step, and crouched down so that he could look into the wizard’s eyes.

“I am Treebeard, leader of the Ents of this forest. Are you the one who lives in this home?” The massive tree-person, now identified as an Ent, asked.

Harry stared at Treebeard for a few second, before moving his gaze to the other three Ents. He then looked over at Manny, who had moved to lounge around his shoulder, and whispered desperately, < **The trees have come for their revenge! Rodolph had it right all along. We are doomed, abandon all hope! >**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, next chapter the story should pick up in action as we get closer to the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring. And don’t worry; the Ents are (possibly) friendly:).


	4. Flying the Coop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t actually read the Lord of the Rings trilogy in a few years, so most of the events in this story will probably be based off of the movies. Even then, it is likely I will get a few details wrong and differ from the original plot line some, so just bear with me please. If Boromir doesn’t die when he is supposed to (because I actually like him quite a bit) or I don’t write their dialogue completely accurately, take it as creative license and do with it what you will. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Bouncing his leg as he tried to ignore the growing awkward silence, Harry did his best to look anywhere other than at the four Ents standing across from him. After his panic attack, Harry had tried to bolt back into the forest, fearing the wrath of the giants. In retrospect, it might not have been the best idea to escape from a bunch of tree people by surrounding himself with other trees. This fact was quickly proven when a vine lifted itself from the ground, tripping Harry. It had wrapped around his body and carried him back to the clearing behind his hut with help from a few of its friends, where it then proceeded to tie him to a conveniently placed boulder.

The following conversation revealed that the tree-people were not in fact here to seek any righteous revenge for their fallen brethren, but instead had come to investigate. Rodolph’s hut was apparently not only made of wood, but was actually rooted into the ground and as much a part of the forest as any other plant. The Ents identified themselves as the guardians of the Forest of Fangorn, a name which Harry noted in his mind to look up in the guide as soon as he was free, and said that they wished to check if the presence that occupied the long-abandoned home was a threat to the forest.

Harry was now left uncomfortably strapped to a bolder that he was sure had eroded so unevenly for the sole purpose of annoying him with its sharp curves as the Ents waited for him to explain himself. Telling the full truth, he decided, would be far too dangerous in such an uncertain situation, and Harry didn’t particularly fancy being called crazy by talking trees. On the other hand, he wouldn’t really be able to lie about being a harmless traveler seeing as he had no idea which towns were nearby, or even the name of the general region. Not to mention, the destroyed, previously peaceful alcove only a mile away wouldn’t back up his claim of being harmless very well. Hedwig was still flying around somewhere and Manny had dove for cover under Harry’s dark blue sweater once the vines had begun winding around him. He was currently more than happy to stay in his hiding spot as Harry “did his evolutionary duty and protected his snake from the big mean twigs”. The snake was apparently expecting animated trees as much as Harry, so this new discovery had shaken his very foundations.

Looking back at his audience, Harry decided he needed to start talking quick. The Ents didn’t look impatient at all; quite the opposite in fact. They appeared to be in no rush as their rooted feet began settling into the earth, suggesting that they wouldn’t mind waiting for days if that was how long it took Harry to answer. That wouldn’t bode so well for the wizard, seeing as the day had been long and stress filled and Harry was about ready to use the jerk of a rock as a makeshift pillow. Falling asleep in front of strangers that were more than capable of being dangerous didn’t seem like a good idea. If Harry wasn’t conscious, then he wouldn’t be able to protect Hedwig or Manny if something were to happen. Straightening his shoulders as much as he could, Harry opened his mouth and said the closest thing he could to the truth while still being painfully vague.

“My name is Hadrian Remus Potter-Black. I was sent here by a friend and decided to visit someone I thought lived in this house. He is not here though,” Harry needlessly pointed out.

The Ents cocked their heads to the side slowly in union and the oldest one, Treebeard, took a step forward.

“I am afraid your information was faulty, young one,” the Ent began in a deep, slow voice, as if he had all the time in the world to stand there and talk with the wizard. “No one has lived in this home for a very long time. I can sense the magic within you, but I haven’t heard of any recent losses or additions to the Heren Istarion. Who are you really?” The Ents leaned down again and inspected Harry, as if trying to judge his sincerity.

Blinking rapidly, Harry looked up at the group. An idea was forming in his head, one that would allow the Ents to no longer view him as a threat, as well as help solve his futile struggle with his uncooperative magic.

With a wide grin, Harry finally met Treebeard’s ancient eyes and began explaining his proposition. “I would be more than happy to tell you all you want to know. However, I’m going to need a little help as well….”

~ Ten Years Later ~

Harry groaned as he rolled out of bed, sending a _silencio_ at the annoying buzzing alarm that had been going on for fifteen minutes. Putting his head under the pillow, Harry smiled as he soaked up the warmth from the covers. Summer was ending and fall was making herself known with a vengeance, casting her chilled breeze throughout the land. _Why did I set that devil alarm again? Oh yeah, it was supposed to wake me up for the….thing….the thing with the trees…_

Shooting up, Harry cast a _tempus_ and cursed at the time. He was already going to be late as it was, so Harry ran over to his wardrobe, pulled on a black wool shirt and brown pants and flew out the door, grabbing the Invisibility Cloak on the way and forgoing breakfast entirely.

During the last decade, Harry had worked on restoring the exterior of the hut to a less run down look. All of the rust had been cleared away and he made a point to water and look after its roots, so the wood making up the home’s frame had never been healthier. He had also made an interesting discovery about the inside; the hut was semi-sentient, not like the Ents, but more similar to Hogwarts .It was able to create and remove rooms based on Harry’s needs, while still staying the same size on the outside. Rodolph had obviously cared for and lived in the place for an extremely long time for so much magic to have settled into its very foundations. The main room always remained the same with its comfortable living space and corner kitchen, but the two doorways on either side of the room always changed depending on what the house sensed Harry required. If it was late at night and he came in stumbling after a particularly draining session with the Ents, the closest door would lead to his bedroom, which was a nearly identical replica of the room he had shared his fellow Gryffindors at Hogwarts. Once, when Harry had returned home angry after a fight with Manny, the house had led him to a blank room only containing a pile of dummies with Voldemort’s face on them, and wouldn’t let him out until he had blown off some steam. The wizard had taken to fondly calling the building “Mom” when it did things like this and Harry always got a warm feeling back from the house returning his affections.    

Harry jumped over a hidden log on the forest floor and he raced by, pulling at the snake around his neck as it began to choke him in its bid to keep from flying off. Manny hadn’t become any wider, but he had grown another meter and had improved his strength; trying to remove his grip was the equivalent of trying to bend a steel girder. Hedwig on the other hand hadn’t changed at all and was flying nimbly through the trees, screeching out a laugh every time Harry nearly ran into something in his rush. Harry had astutely ignored the fact that his owl was living far longer than possible for her species and decided that he owed Death one for not taking his companion.

Finally, Harry could see the clearing where he was supposed to meet the Ents and slowed down to a walk, pulling out the twigs that had gotten tangled in his hair during his dash. For the past ten years, the Ents had been helping Harry train his magic and adapt to its increased intensity. He had never revealed exactly where he came from and the Ents didn’t ask once they ensured he wasn’t a danger to them, solving Harry’s dilemma. The Ents had agreed to protect his hut until he was able to erect wards around it and would oversee his practices and clarify anything Harry found in Rodolph’s magical texts that he didn’t understand. They were surprisingly knowledgeable and well versed in the magical arts. Harry never asked how, seeing as they were magical creatures themselves. He also didn’t want to accidently bring up a sensitive topic; the Ents had revealed that they were the only four left, with the youngest one only waking up a few years ago. All of the others had reverted back to motionless trees, beginning with the disappearance of the Entwives. Harry had really wanted to ask how the Ents reproduced after that divulgence, but had suppressed his question and allowed the conversation to die after seeing how upset the usually stoic tree men were.

In return for the Ent’s help, Harry began helping to patrol the edges of the forest. While the Ents were powerful, they were also very slow; they had only been able to confront Harry on the day they met so quickly because they had already been a few miles south of the hut, enjoying a week-long stroll through the forest. The wizard used his golden snitch, which had been turned into an excellent spying device by the Weasley twins during the war; it kept a constant watch on the borders and alerted him if anyone was about to enter. Harry would then get a chance to practice his apparition, using the maps from the guide as reference so he didn’t accidently splinch himself, and investigated the disturbance. He usually just used a bit of magic to help travelers through quickly so that they wouldn’t accidentally get lost or hurt the forest. Apparently, people had been whispering reverently about a “Forest Spirit” who occupied the Forest of Fangorn and protected those who passed through the old woods, which the Ents enjoyed teasing Harry about. However, lately there had been some nasty creatures trying to gain access to the forest. Hulking gray, disfigured beasts would try to use the paths through the woods, tearing brutally threw any nature in their way and massacring the local wildlife, taking far more than they needed to sustain themselves. Harry had already been forced to exterminate five parties of the monsters, whom the Ents called orcs. The Sword of Gryffindor was getting far more action then it had seen in a while.

A few weeks ago the four Ents had traveled to the borders themselves to observe the problem first hand. Harry wasn’t able to apparate them, so they had to take the long way. The Ents were supposed to return today and Harry had agreed to meet them in the clearing that he had found the first day he arrived. It had regained its majestic beauty with time and was the most calming spot Harry had found in all of the forest.

Breaking into the alcove, Harry was relieved to see the Ents already there and unharmed. They had assured him that they were more than capable of protecting themselves, but Harry had still been worried; if they ran into a band of orcs, the Ents would have no weapons to defend themselves. But then again, the giant spikes decorating Lowen’s, the youngest, branches had to be able to do some damage, and the Ents themselves were fairly intimidating.

“How did it go? Did you encounter any orcs? Are they dead? Are you dead? No wait, I mean are you okay? Do you know what is going on?” Harry rapidly fired off questions, eager to talk to his mentors again. He had grown close to the Ents in their time together and almost considered them his surrogate family, like he had with the Weasleys.

< **Are you asking them about their search for a lady snake friend? You said that you would. They found one, right? Man, I am so excited! > **Harry ignored Manny. He had told his snake that the Ents were just going out to find him a girlfriend because he didn’t want to worry the already chronically nervous snake who, if he had been a human, would have died long ago from an anxiety-induced heart attack. After he got over his fear of the talking trees, Manny had declared the Ents his “hatchlings” and forced Harry to translate all of his nagging. This lie ended up being a big mistake, though; the snake wouldn’t shut up about finally meeting a lady (Hedwig apparently didn’t count) and Harry had been very close to a mental breakdown.  

As usual, Treebeard acted as the spokesperson for the group and answered Harry. “We have found the problem you described; it seems as though the orcs are using our paths as a short cut from Angmar. We have no idea why they are heading south, but the reason can’t be good news for anyone. We have decided to seal off the forest completely for a time. It would be best if you left for a while as well; these woods are becoming dangerous and darkness is beginning to shroud these land.”

Harry frowned at the Ents. “If something is threatening this forest, then I need to be here to help protect it.”

Treebeard shook his massive head. “No, child. The others will be waking up soon and we will be strong enough to defend ourselves.” Harry’s eyes widened in shock at the admission. The rest of the Ents would be coming back; this was excellent. He had always been curious about their slumber and had spent an embarrassing number of hours staring at random trees, waiting for a twitch or some sign of life. He had always been rewarded with snickers from Manny and cross-eyes.

“Besides,” the old Ent added. “I have a feeling that you are needed elsewhere. Go and find your destiny. We will be fine for now.”

Harry eyed Treebeard doubtfully. Destiny had never been very kind to him and he was not eager to see what else she had in store for him, especially with Death’s parting words still looming over his head. But, if the Ents thought he should go, then he didn’t have much of a choice. He would miss the forest that had come to be his home dearly, but maybe it was time to start exploring some more.

While he had apparated a few times to nearby towns once he had begun to gain some control over his wayward magic, Harry had always worn a hood over his head and refrained from speaking to anyone unless it was required, trying to be forgettable. Lately, the villagers had treated him with more suspicion than normal, just as Harry felt ready to make some actual human connections. His magic was finally responding how he wanted it to and he felt like less of a danger.

Bidding the Ents a (temporary, they all insisted) farewell, Harry headed back towards his hut. Packing up his trunk, which he had finally managed to charm bottomless, Harry prepared to leave his home. And, he realized, the hut had become just that: a home. While he had been referring to the wooden house as such all along, Harry just noticed that it had truly become a place where he felt safe and loved. _Well, a little late for that revelation, eh?_ Sighing, Harry tucked the Traveler’s Guide into an easy-to-access pocket of his cloak and slowly made his way out of the house, caressing the familiar wooden walls as he went.

Outside, Harry settled Manny loosely around his shoulders as Hedwig perched on his shoulders. After miniaturizing his trunk and slipping it into his pocket, Harry apparated them to the edge of the forest where he kept a horse he had rescued from an abusive caretaker in Rohan two years ago. The night black horse, which Harry had named Luna due to her tendency to stare at the sky dreamily and explore everything without getting spooked, had fallen in love with Harry and the surrounding forest and welcomed her friend with an affectionate head-butt. After regaining his balance, Harry fastened a saddle onto his horse’s back and jumped up onto it.

“Alright girl, let’s start heading North.”

~ Two Months Later ~

The dark room was full of smoke and the sounds of raucous laughter and feet walking over the squeaking floors. Harry sat in a corner with his back to the wall, the hood of his cloak pulled up to shroud his face in shadows. While living in the forest, his features had finally matured enough for him to be able to pass off as a nineteen year old without any raised eyebrows of disbelief. However, as he had figured out from some of the people in the towns he had passed through, there was still something off about him. The planes of his face, while appealing, were just a tad too sharp, they had claimed, and his eyes were too bright to be natural. Harry had taken the hint and rarely let his face show, even going as far as to let his black hair grow so that it nearly touched his shoulders in gentle waves, finally losing its uncontrollable wildness.

Harry had arrived in Bree just last night and had decided to take up lodging in the Prancing Pony. The Bree-folk were some of the friendliest people he had yet to meet. All of the humans, the dwarves, and the Halflings, who looked like well-groomed, barefooted dwarves, were talking, singing and just generally getting along well.

The wizard was listening intently to a group of dwarves and humans who were sitting at the table next to his. They were discussing trouble that was going on in the south and how many families had to move up north. Harry frowned and tightened his hand around the hilt of his sword, which he now carried on him at all times in a scabbard on his belt after an unpleasant incident on the road involving some bandits. The father north he travelled, the more news he heard about the evil that was stirring near his home. He had been tempted to apparate back to the Forest of Fangorn and check on his surrogate family, but he didn’t want to upset the Ents by disobeying them. Treebeard wouldn’t be satisfied until Harry had “found his purpose” and his worry was lessened a bit by the letters they sent back and forth via Hedwig. Actually, Harry had sent letters, while the Ents sent back flowers and bark, which Harry interpreted as reassurance that both they and the forest were doing fine.

Looking across the Inn, Harry saw two very drunk Halflings dancing atop one of the tables, singing at the top of their lungs. Another one appeared to be trying to get them to come down, while a fourth dark haired Halfling joined the first two. During their song _The Cow Jumped over the Moon_ , the newest one fell off of the table when he jumped too far. Harry’s eyebrows rose up his forehead when the Halfling disappeared from sight in the middle of the floor. An uproar spread throughout the room as everyone tried to figure out where he had gone. Harry looked closely at the ground and noticed soft footprints in the dust with no owner tread under a table a few down from his own. The Halfling suddenly appeared underneath the table, and Harry watched with interest as a man in a dark gray cloak pulled the boy from the ground and rushed upstairs with him, whispering furiously into the shorter one’s ear.

Curious, Harry got up and followed the two, pulling off his Invisibility Cloak in the shadowed edges of the room and flipping it inside out. Once he made sure no one was watching Harry put the cloak back on, turning himself invisible.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear this Master of Death business up, Harry is not immortal. He ages slowly and at an inconsistent rate and, while he can’t kill himself because Death isn’t willing to take him if he dies at his own hand, Harry isn’t unable to die. Or at least he wouldn’t be if he wasn’t my main character, but I digress.


	5. When Darkness Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First contact between Harry and main LotR characters is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m changing a few of the smaller details from canon, but I will try to explain them as sufficiently as I can.

The old wooden planks squeaked and groaned underneath Harry’s feet as he made his way up the staircase, flinching at each step. Every sound seemed to be amplified and he had to plaster himself to the wall twice in order to avoid a drunken person tripping down the stairs, unaware of the invisible wizard in their way. Manny was hissing out protests from his badly chosen spot around Harry’s waist, demanding to “drive” next time.

**< Humph. One day you are going to messs up a sspell, and then I will be the human who bangs his sssnake, you, into walls, and laughs at his noble dreams of entrepreneurship, and “accidently” loses his favorite mirror THREE TIMESsss, and forgets his birthday week- OW! That one was on purpose!>**

Finally making it to the top, Harry was able to spot the two men he was trailing just as the taller one slammed the door of a room at the end of the hall. Tuning out the hissed threats to his nether regions, Harry glided over to stand next to the door and put the side of his head against the wall. After he cast a focused amplifying charm at his ear, the muffled noises from the inside of the room became loud and clear.

“Well, _Mr. Underhill_ , what exactly was that show you put on? Are you purposefully trying to ignore the warnings Gandalf gave you? The Ring must be kept secret at all costs; you could have endangered us all!” Harry matched the annoyed voice to the older man, as he didn’t think the vocal cords of the Halfling could produce such low tones.

“What? Of course not! I never meant for any of that to happen. And how do you know about Gandalf and the Ring anyways? Who are you?!” The younger man’s voice began to take on an edge of panic and Harry tensed, narrowing his eyes as they flashed coldly. If there was one thing he had retained from his past life, it was his deep hatred of bullies. Dudley and his gang had taken every chance to belittle and hurt Harry when they were young, and he wouldn’t stand on the sidelines like the other kids and adults had during his childhood.

“Everyone knows the story of the One Ring. My name is Strider; I am a Ranger sent by Gandalf to guide you on your way to Rivendell. The path is treacherous, and will be even more so now that word will spread of your stunt here. We must leave quickly.” Shuffling could be heard as Harry assumed the man started packing. All of this talk about important rings made the wizard give in to the need to look down at his left hand. The Resurrection Stone shone proudly in the Peverell family’s heirloom ring on his pointer finger, where it always ended up, no matter how many times Harry had tried to rid himself of it. He really hoped this “One Ring” was less of a pain than his own. _Wait, a One Ring? That sounded familiar. Where have I heard it before…?_

“Huh? No way! I am not going anywhere with you. Besides, my friends are waiting for me downstairs. I can’t just leave them alone, especially not if this place is as dangerous as you say!”

_Hmmm, it wasn’t any time recent, I am sure of that. It must have been right after I first got here, before I met the Ents…._

Harry continued to lean against the wall and ponder under his cloak, not paying any attention to the three Halflings as they made their way past him to bust open the door.

“We can’t afford any more distractions. Hurry, take this bag and we will leave through the-“

“Hold on one moment! Where exactly do you think you are going with our friend? You can’t just kidnap people; what are you, crazy?”

_Crazy? Oh, that’s right! Rodolph mentioned hearing about a One Ring in his journal entry. It must be a big deal if it has been around as long as that batty old geezer._

“Pippin! Merry, Sam!” At the sound of pounding feet, Harry finally looked back towards the room and was mildly surprised to see the door ajar. Peering in, he saw the dark haired Halfling being pushed behind the three others from the bar protectively. The man, Strider, stood up from his knelt position by the bed where he had been stuffing supplies into two shoulder bags. The air between the two sides was tense as each waited for the other to make a move. _I wonder when that happened._

Turning back around out of sight, Harry decided to break the stalemate and took off his Invisibility Cloak before flipping it back around.

Plastering what he hoped was a friendly smile on his face, Harry ignored its uselessness with the hood covering his head and entered a few paces into the room.

“Good Evening!” The five occupants of the room jumped in surprise and turned towards the sound of the wizard’s voice. “I couldn’t help but hear your shouting from down the hall and thought I would stop by. Everything alright here?”

Mr. Underhill looked up at the cloaked stranger and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t suppose you are another guest Gandalf failed to warn me about. Have you come to _help_ as well?”

Harry tilted his head to the side. “Gandalf?”

“Yeah,” one of the other Halflings, Merry, butted in. “You know, reeeealy old, carries a fancy wizard’s staff around and knows how to put on a mean fireworks show.”

A picture of a grinning Dumbledore preparing to light the fuse of some Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes fireworks with Voldemort strapped to them as the red-headed twins crackled madly in the background suddenly popped up in Harry’s mind. Shaking his head, Harry quickly dispelled the disturbing image.

“Err, yes, well I haven’t a clue as to who that is. No, I am just a curious passerby trying to keep the peace in any way that I can.”

Strider took a few steps forward between the parting Halflings to stand before Harry. “We do not need any help, _Stranger_. Please continue on your way.”

“Now hold on one moment,” Mr. Underhill spoke up. “From my standpoint, this man is just as trustworthy as you are, though he wasn’t sent by Gandalf. I would prefer if you _both_ left us alone.”

The Ranger turned to the young man and knelt down closer to his height. “Does that ring frighten you, Mr. Baggins?”

Mr. Underhill/ Mr. Baggins gulped and nodded his head. “Yes,” he whispered. “Very much.”

“Good, because it should.” Strider righted himself and looked at the group of Halflings. “There are many dark creatures that are going to try to get their hands on the Ring. I am here to protect you from danger and deliver you safely to the Elven city. Please allow me to do my duty.”

“Very well, Sir,” Merry said, crossing his arms. “While we are hobbits and more than capable of taking care of ourselves, I suppose we could let you tag along.” The other three rolled their eyes at their friend’s antics and grinned.

“I don’t suppose you could put up with my presence as well? I’m heading that way too, and there is strength in numbers and such,” Harry added in. This quest-thingy seemed interesting and he hadn’t had any constant companions since he left the forest beyond Manny and Hedwig. Not to mention, the guide hadn’t included any information on hobbits and they seemed like interesting creatures that deserved to be documented.  

Strider eyed the man suspiciously, but the hobbits looked more open to the idea.

“Well of course you must come along!” Pippin exclaimed. “You seem to be severely lacking in the essential knowledge of fireworks and general merrymaking. We can’t allow this to continue; you must come.”

Mr. Baggins and Sam looked more hesitant, but stood by their friend’s statement.

“Wonderful then!” Harry pulled back his hood so that he could finally actually smile at them and ignored their immediate flinches at the sight of his face. “Let’s get going then shall we? I believe you said something about dark creatures hunting us?”

A scream suddenly came through the window from the ground outside. Harry mentally cursed himself for jinxing them while Strider hurried the hobbits out of the room, swinging his two bags over his shoulders.

“We must hurry. The Black Riders have found us,” the Ranger stated ominously. The six quickly ran down the stairs and out of the Inn. Strider led the hobbits to a back way out of Bree while Harry went to retrieve Luna.

  “Alright girl, ready for an adventure?” Harry asked his horse as he swung up onto her back. His miniaturized trunk was safely tucked away in one of the pouches of the saddle and Hedwig had yet to return from her trip to the Forest of Fangorn. Harry pulled on Luna’s reigns and guided her to the path that his new travelling companions had disappeared down.

~ Five Hours Later ~

The group had been travelling nonstop for hours. The hobbits had decided to pass the time by telling stories to the amused wizard and tense Ranger. The Shire, the homeland of the hobbits, seemed to be an exceptionally peaceful place, but Merry and Pippin had some especially interesting tales of their many pranking exploits. The two reminded Harry of a more innocent version of the Weasley twins. They also had an interesting conversation in which Harry tried to explain that, no, his name did not relate at all to what was under his robes and, yes, his parents were very much most likely in their right minds after his birth, and, no, he didn’t have to shave twice a day. However, soon enough the Hobbits grew tired and hungry as the sun began setting and they all stopped to make camp on a rocky hill.

While they set up the tent, Harry decided it would be a good time to ask about the business with this “One Ring”. The news was less than stellar.

“The Ring is one of the most powerful artifacts in Middle Earth and was created by the Dark Lord Sauron in the fires of Mount Doom during the Second Age,” Strider began once Harry managed to convince him that he was from a small southern town and really didn’t know the story. “His intention was to increase his own power and gain control over the other nineteen Rings of Power, therefor becoming lord over all of Middle-earth.”

Harry frowned. “And how, exactly, did he manage to create such a powerful weapon?”

“It is said that Sauron concentrated a large part of his own power into the One Ring, and thus a part of him is within it. However, Sauron's fate became bound to that of the Ring as consequence, and in order to truly destroy him, the Ring must be destroyed as well.”

Harry had a very bad feeling about all of this. This Dark Lord Sauron and his One Ring sounded far too much like Voldemort and his Horocruxes for comfort. After what happened to his old world, Harry really didn’t want this new one to suffer the same fate within only a decade of his arrival. Death’s Prophecy was becoming clearer now, and Harry didn’t like what he saw.

Soon Strider, after extensively threatening Harry if he tried to betray them and hurt the Halflings, left to collect firewood and the hobbits settled down, complaining about their cold meal. Harry warned them that he was going to leave as well for a while and disappeared into the trees. Once out of their sight, Harry took out his Spying Snitch and instructed it to keep watch over the hobbits and warn him if anything happened. He planned on taking a brief trip back to his hut to try and find any notes Rodolph might have left on the One Ring. Harry had already searched the Traveler’s Guide and came up with only a few passing references to it. Hopefully the bookshelf of magical texts would yield better results.

Harry apparated back to the Forest of Fangorn and immediately fell down in a crouch close to the ground, trying to regain his breath. Apparating so far took a lot of energy and magic, but Harry was hopeful that it would be worthwhile. Straightening, he took in the sight of his dearly missed home. Something seemed to have changed, and not for the better. Rust had invaded the creases of the few metal parts on the exterior and the entire clearing seemed to be just a tad darker than it should have been with the sun only just beginning to set here.

Worried, Harry ran up to the front door and put his hand on the cool wood. He allowed his magic to wash over the old house. The conscience of the house replied sluggishly, in sharp contrast to its usually quick and enthusiastic greetings. It was as if a sickness has overtaken his beloved home and was slowly poisoning it.

“Oh, Mum,” Harry whispered, regretting leaving his house in such a vulnerable position. “What has happened to you? Why didn’t the Ents warned me what was going on?” This was inexcusable. Even if they didn’t want to keep him from his _destiny,_ there was absolutely no reason for the Ents to allow his home to become so ill. He couldn’t leave now; somehow Harry had to heal and protect his home before he could return to the hobbits. _Maybe Manny will get his wish to become human sooner than planned.…._  

“Hey! What do you think you are doing to my darling?” The voice startled Harry and he quickly turned around, putting his hand that wasn’t on the house into his pocket for easy access to his wand.

An old man with a graying beard wearing loose brown robes and carrying a long wooden staff with a green stone clutched at the end was marching up to Harry. _Was this the wizard Gandalf the hobbits had spoken of before? He certainly looked as deranged as I had pictures him……._

“And what is all of this ‘Mum’ business?” The man continued, not paying any attention to the dissecting gaze the other wizard was sending his way. “I don’t remember having a child. Wait!” He suddenly gasped, freezing mid-step and slapping a hand on his forehead. “Don’t tell me you have been cheating on me! It was one of those damned trees, wasn’t it? I knew they couldn’t be trusted, no matter what Gandalf said! That must have been the reason they called me here, to rub it in my face. They have spited me for the last time. Justice will be served! Yes. I shall amass my rabbit army, and then we will…..”

_Hmmm? Vendetta against the Ents…. Close relationship with my house….. Too insane for words….But it can’t be, can it?_

“Excuse me,” Harry interrupted the mad man’s rant. “But might I inquire as to what your name is, Sir?”

The brown wizard straightened himself and stared at Harry with a disturbing intensity that didn’t seem to fit the man’s earlier attitude. “I am Radagast the Brown, one of the five Istar. And who might you be?”

 _It had to be him! Alright Harry, let’s handle this with care._ “I am Harry Potter, and the current occupant of this house. I’ve been on a vacation for the last few months, you see. You wouldn’t happen to be a wizard who used to go by the name of Rooveus Roden Rodolph by any chance, would you?” _Whoops._

Radagast’s eyes seemed to sharpen further, and before Harry could move he found himself on his back, the brown wizard’s impressive staff at his throat. “How do you know that name? What do you want?”

“Wait! I’m from your old world and mean you no harm. Ask the house. Let her show you that I am no threat!” Harry tensed on the ground, preparing to fight back with everything he had if the man didn’t listen and decided to truly attack. He had survived too much to go down passively lying on his back.

Radagast cocked his head to the side and allowed his eyelids to lower some. He began nodding his head and after a few minutes he withdrew his staff and offered Harry a hand up.

“I’ve never actually told anyone about my origins, so you frightened me a lot there. I hope I didn’t hurt you?”

Harry shook his head and ignored the lack of an apology. It was understandable, and he would have reacted the same way if someone had blurted out a title from his old world that no one was supposed to know about. He really should have handled that with more tact.

“So another wizard has decided to travel here. Will you be staying for a while? The last one who came was a delight, but he had to leave in a hurry; he mentioned something about a moldy wart he had to deal with. I really hope he took care of that.”

 _Oh Dumbledore._ ‘Er, yes, it was taken care of, eventually. So, you recognize this?” Harry pulled out the Traveler’s Guide and presented it to Radagast.

“Ah, that old thing! Of course, that book got me here and taught me all about the wonders of the nature here. Funny thing it was; the minute I decided I wanted to stay here indefinitely, it vanished from my desk! I spent days looking for it, and I never knew the book’s fate until that nice Dumbly fellow came around.” Radagast got a faraway look in his eyes as he recalled his acquaintance with the eccentric wizard.

 _This opportunity is just too perfect._ “Well, now that we have all of that cleared up, could you possibly tell me anything about the On- Oh bloody hell.” The alarm in his head went off, warning him that his snitch had spotted a danger heading towards the hobbits. _I really need to stop jinxing myself. No more optimism, only stone cold facts from here on out. Yeah, that will work._

“Sorry, but I really need to go now. Could you put any memories you have of the One Ring into this? I have an idea as to what it really is, a Horocrux, but I need more information to confirm it.” Harry held out a vial, which Radagast took without hesitation once he heard the other wizard’s theory. Horocruxes hadn’t been a well-known topic in the Wizarding World, but those who were aware of them were rightfully weary about the dark objects, except for rare cases like Slughorn.

Once he had the vial back, Harry prepared to apparate, but then hesitated and looked back at his house. He couldn’t leave with the building in such a dreadful state. Harry looked back at Radagast sternly. “Do you plan on staying and taking care of this house?”

The older wizard looked offended. “Well of course I can’t leave my sweet in such conditions. It would be an outrage.” Radagast’s face then took on a more serious tone. “Don’t worry; I won’t allow anything to happen to my home. I may have left her for a while to explore and learn when I thought the land was still safe, but I won’t abandon my first home now that the dangers here are clear. I will fix her up and protect her, you have my word.”

Harry nodded, satisfied with his answer. Taking a deep breath, the wizard apparated himself back to the cover of the woods where he had first left the hobbits and ran towards their camp after leaning against a tree for support for a minute. Harry grabbed his snitch from where it was buzzing worriedly at the edge of the forest and put it back into his pocket.

Harry came within sight of the others, only to see them fighting for their lives against what appeared to be a horde of Dementors on black demon-horses. Pippin and Merry were throwing stones at them as Sam tried to ward some off with a… frying pan. Strider was running with his sword drawn towards Frodo, who was clutching his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers and decorating the knife of the Black Rider standing above him.

Clenching his hand around the hilt of his sword, Harry froze before continuing, now sprinting towards the disarray in front of him. _No, not another one….. They will survive. And the Riders will pay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was rereading, I noticed a few accidental innuendoes scattered about (if you can’t find them, just accept it as a good thing), but I decided to leave them for entertainment purposes and future awkwardness in case this somehow becomes a romance (the odds are low, but maybe). Speaking of which, if that is what you want, leave a review with a potential pairing (involving Harry or not) and I will consider incorporating the couple. Have an excellent day/night/ miscellaneous settings of the sun!


	6. A River of Disasters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to be mixing events that happened in the book with those that occurred in the movie, mainly because I like certain details better, but also for plot purposes. Sorry if anything gets too confusing.

I’m so excited; I have a new speech type to add to the list!:

“Severus Snape” = verbal speech

_Legolas Greenleaf_ = Harry’s thoughts/ the little voices in his head

**Ron Weasley** = Parseltongue

_“I am also in italics, but notice the quotation marks around me. Pretty snazzy, huh?”_ = Elven speech

 

_No, not another one….. They will survive. And the Riders will pay._

Harry collided with the closest Black Rider, who was trying to slash at the pan-wielding Sam. Pulling the Sword of Gryffindor out if its sheath, he shoved the creature away from the hobbits and took a protective stance in front of them. Three Black Riders stood in front of Harry, two of which were riding horses, and a quick glance showed that another was dueling with Strider while the last still stood over Frodo. For some reason, he was only watching the hobbit fight for breath as the hobbit leaned against the ruin of an old wall rather than trying to finish off the ring-bearer.

Refocusing on the wrath-like creatures before him, Harry parried a blow from the one he had knocked away while ducking to avoid a swipe from his left. He could feel his magic bubbling under the surface of his skin, ready to lend him strength so that he could defend himself and the people he was protecting. Harry briefly turned his head towards the panicked hobbits standing behind him. Sam still held his pan up defensively, but now had a lost look on his face, as if confused as to where he was and why he wasn’t waking up from this strange dream now that his part was over, and the wide-eyed looks Pippin and Merry were swapping as they held their short swords pointed downward were less than inspiring.

“Run,” Harry bellowed, surprising the hobbits out of their shock. “Go help Frodo. I will try to hold them off.” His three opponents began to fight harder once they realized Harry wasn’t becoming any weaker in their presence like he was supposed to, making it impossible for the wizard to divert his attention with speech any more. Luckily, Sam, once he realized that his friend was in danger, grabbed the other two hobbits and dragged them around the Riders, who had given their full focus to the wizard.

The two mounted Nazgûl had the advantage of height and began to circle around Harry since their full frontal assault wasn’t working. One tried to stab the wizard as he defended himself against the grounded Black Rider in front of him.

< **Behind you, behind you! If they get anywhere near back here they will be subjected to my super deadly venom! Oh, man those are some big swords…. > **Dear Merlin, how had how he forgotten about his snake, who had hitched a ride with Harry back to the forest before falling asleep wrapped around his middle. Manny had been so unusually quiet and the weight around his torso had become so familiar that his presence had completely slipped Harry’s mind.   

**< Not now Manny!> **Harry, already having sensed the deadly attack, hastily summoned a magical shield to block it. Every time the Nazgûl tried to strike at his back or sides, their daggers would be stopped and repelled back, the shield revealing itself with a momentary green shimmer in the areas that it was touched.

Panting, Harry placed both of his hands on the hilt of his sword and put the most weight he could into each blow without unbalancing himself. With the two Black Riders circling him, he had no space to back up and the physical and magical stress was beginning to wear him down. During the war in his old world, the wizards had mainly fought with their wands and used long-range curses. The only up close fighting that went on was among the werewolves and other misunderstood creatures the Dark Lord had managed to bring to his side. Dual concentration while fighting was a skill Harry had forced himself to master in order to make himself more deadly against those who thought he was defenseless without his wand, but he hadn’t had much practice in the last few decades. While trapezing around the Forest of Fangorn and defending it from the orcs had kept him in shape and his sword sharp, none of his recent battles had lasted so long or been against such powerful opponents.

The air around him seemed to be heavier and more suffocating than it had ever felt before; it was as if the beings surrounding him were sucking the magic away from the area. Every time he moved his limbs, it felt as if he were fighting through a vat of solid jelly, slowing his parries and allowing the blade of the Nazgûl in front of him to come closer and closer each time their swords crossed. The other two rained even more blows down onto his shield, as if sensing the wizard’s exhaustion and his flattering hold on his magic.

Needing to end the fight quickly, Harry whispered a _stupefy_ at the creature before him just as it was raising its arm for a powerful blow. While the magic slid off of the cloaked figure almost instantly, the short pause was all Harry needed to thrust his raised sword into its unguarded chest. An unearthly screech of pain broke free from the unseen face as theNazgûl stumbled away from Harry. The two circling Black Riders jerked to a stop around him, shocked to see their fellow wraith injured; no mortal blade had been able to pierce them since they had become little more than semi-corporeal shades. While they had been growing in strength along with the imminent return of their master, they had still not regained their human bodies and should have been impervious to such wounds.

Harry used their distraction to allow the straining shield to break and whipped out the Elder Wand with his left hand. More screeches filled the air, and the wizard looked over to see Strider successfully warding off the other two Nazgûl with a torch away from the hobbits, who had gathered in a huddle around the wounded Frodo. One of the wraiths caught on fire and the noises it made nearly forced Harry to drop his weapons to cover his ears.

Taking the hint, Harry flicked his wand and watched in satisfaction as the tip ignited instantly. The Nazgûl hissed at the flames as the wizard began setting some of the dry grass on the ground on fire, spreading the blinding light that drove off the darkness. The black horses growled out whinnies and pounded the ground with their hooves a bit before finally taking off.

The Black Rider that Harry had wounded dragged himself off the ground and looked over at the wizard. Its shrouded face stopped at the hand holding the Sword of Gryffindor and Harry glanced down to where he felt its gaze. The Resurrection Stone shone brightly in the blaze from its place in Harry’s ring. The Nazgûl made come sort of gurgled noise that Harry assumed was part of its language and reached out longingly towards the wizard. Harry immediately pointed his still burning wand at the creature, which seemed to pull it from its trance. The creature turned away and flew after its companions, meeting up with his own mount on the bottom of the hill.

Harry felt the urge to go after the creatures and took a few steps in their direction, before Strider’s answer to the flurry of concerned questions from Sam stopped him cold.

“This isn’t good. He has been injured by their Morgul-blade. The poison in the wound will cause him to turn into a wraith himself if it is not treated with the proper care.” The hobbits all let out horrified gasps at the prospect of their friend turning into a soulless ghost. Strider whirled around from his position knelt over Frodo at the sounds and fixed the hobbits with a frightening glare. “What were you thinking, you fools! The fire you built led them straight to us; it stood out like a beacon, announcing to all our location.”

The three flinched and Pippin whispered in a trembling voice “W-we were o-only trying to have a warm meal. The bacon was uncook-ked and….”

“Well,” Strider hisses, agitated, “I hope your _meal_ was worth your friend’s life.”

Harry raised his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his noise. _Sweet Morgana, the hobbits had risked all of their safety for a hot late-night snack. That’s it; I just can’t leave them alone. Their self-preservation instincts are even worse than mine were, and I tried to defeat a Basilisk single handedly as a second year! Well, I did succeed after almost dying, and Fawkes helped me out quite a bit, plus there was Ginny as motivation….._

Looking back at the group, Harry winced as he saw the state the hobbits were in. Sam looked like he was about to faint at the knowledge of the danger they had unknowingly put their friend in, while the other two looked as though they were going to cry after the last cutting remark Strider had made. Sighing, Harry marched over and planted himself between the human and the hobbits. Once their attention was on him, Harry stared pointedly down at Frodo.

“As much as your yelling is helping matters, I really think we should play the blame game later, or never, and focus on Frodo, who happens to be **dying** and is in desperate need of medical attention. Or we could always wait around for those things to come back and finish us all off. Personally, I am completely fine either way.” The sarcasm was dripping off of his words, showing the others just how helpful he thought their bickering was.

Strider sent a wary look towards the young man who had managed to hold off three of the Nazgûl for a time with only a sword, but nodded his head in agreement. “He is right; the Black Riders will regroup soon enough and come back after us. We must travel to Rivendell quickly.”

As the hobbits began quickly repacking their belongings, Harry went to find Luna, who had thankfully gone grazing out of ear shot of the fighting and was busy staring at a butterfly dueling with a bee for the affections of a blooming daisy, completely entranced. He didn’t think he would have been able to restrain himself if his horse had gotten hurt; those dirty bed cloth-covered skeletons would have been hunted down before they could recover. As it was, Frodo’s health came first and they needed to hurry if they had any chance of saving him.

With Strider’s help, Frodo was lifted onto Luna’s back and the party left the mountain of ruins. The rest of the ponies and Strider’s horse had fled during the attack, so they had to travel swiftly on foot to try and make up the distance the Dark Riders would gain once they started after them on horseback.

The journey was much more subdued than it had been before with everyone now lost in their own thoughts. The three unharmed hobbits were stewing over their guilt at being the indirect cause of their friend’s deadly injury, while Strider was trying to keep a pace brisk enough to satisfy the sense of urgency that hung in the air, but that those with shorter legs could keep up with. This was proving to be an unobtainable endeavor.   

Harry, meanwhile, was taking up the rear of the group, walking backwards through the night as he refused to take his eyes off of the mist that hid their enemies somewhere within it. The stray broken-off branches and gray vines littering the forest floor silently moved out of his way as he passed just enough to keep him from tripping, but not radically so that the preoccupied Ranger would notice anything amiss. This was a talent the wizard had picked up during his decade in the forest; nature seemed to be attracted to him and the magic of his aura, so after some practice it became almost second nature for him to connect with the plants and animals in his vicinity. Once in tune with him, they would help him along his way unconsciously, trying to assist their new friend. _Yet, they are only as useful as their reach. The Riders had the advantage on the barren mountain, but if they try an ambush here, I’ll use a vine to manually choke the undeadness out of them. No, Frodo, I must focus on Frodo….._

Several piercing cries rose up from the shadows alarmingly close, frightening the already terrified hobbits and making Strider and Harry tighten their hands around their drawn swords. The party began walking at an even faster rate, forcing the hobbits to have to practically jog in order to keep up. The Nazgûl had found each other and were coming after them.

An hour later the sound of hooves pounding on the dry ground gradually became distinguishable and quickly grew louder. The group lost all pretenses of leisure and dashed through the forest, Harry finally turning forward to keep up; even Luna had to increase her gait to a gallop, causing Frodo to let out a pained moan as his head bounced up and down with each stride.

Only their gasps for breath and the increasingly unsteady slaps of feet on the ground could be heard over the blood rushing though Harry’s ears. Fighting the ancient once-men had taken a toll on his body and the lack of sleep and substance was starting to get to him. He could usually go days before he remembered that he needed to eat to stay alive, but the sudden flurry of activity was rapidly wearing on his reserves. Harry’s magic, which usually wrapped around him like a security blanket, ready at a moment’s notice, was reduced to a thin sheet. The dark surrounding forest air did nothing to replenish his magic it was more like a void than anything breathable, and only the faint rustle of the foliage beneath him reminded Harry that he still had some advantages.

The sound of a horse rushing towards them suddenly came through the night, and the group haltingly stopped their advance. Strider pointed his sword at the mist in the direction of the newcomer, while Harry kept his eyes behind them and carefully calculated how close the Riders were getting. It seemed as though one had ridden ahead to cut them off. All of the hobbits got out their short swords gifted to them by Strider, willing to fight to the death to protect their hurt friend.  

The rider coming towards them appeared out of the mist first. A tall woman with dark hair and intense gray eyes atop a white horse strode forward, before stopping a few meters in front of Strider. The Ranger immediately pointed his sword downward and took a step closer to the woman.

_“Arwen, why are you here?”_

_"I have come in search of you, Aragorn, and to assist the hobbits. What has happened, who is the stranger?”_

_Elfish,_ Harry thought, noting the pointed ears of the woman, which had previously been hidden before she turned to look at the wizard, causing the strand of her hair to fall behind her shoulders. It was easy to identify the language; he had spent many hours hunched over the guide, learning the vocabulary and sounding out words from the dictionary section. Westron, or Common Speech, had been easy to learn as it was basically English with a different set of slang terms, but the languages of other races, such as Elfish and Khuzdul, the language of the Dwarves, were a bit trickier to grasp. However, though it was hard for Harry to make out everything they were saying due to their rapid speech and his lack of ever actually hearing a native speaker that wasn’t trying to kill him before, he was able to understand the majority of their conversation.

_“The boy is unimportant.”_ Well, that kind of hurt. _“But the ring bearer, Frodo, had been hurt; he was wounded by a Morgul-blade.”_

The elf stiffened at his words and shot an alarmed look at the softly moaning hobbit.

_"We must get him to my father quickly; he will know how to heal him. Please, help me take hold of the child and I will ride ahead to Rivendell.”_ Strider nodded and began to lift Frodo off of Luna.

Harry moved forward to aid in the transfer once the Ranger had made his intentions clear, making no sign that he had understood their words any more than the rest of the confused party. Going by the looks the elf woman kept sending his way, it was obvious she didn’t fully trust him; he would learn more by feigning ignorance now than making himself look even more suspicious by knowing the elven language. Though, he was curious how Strider knew it; the man was becoming more and more interesting.

 "If you are going ahead, Mistress Elf, then please allow me to accompany you. It will be hard for you to defend yourself while carrying another, and Strider should stay to protect and guide the hobbits, as he is the only one of us who knows the way.” Harry had noted the knives and bow and arrow the elf, Arwen, was carrying, and had no doubt that she was deadly in any situation. However, he also wished to be there to ensure the protection of the Ring. Although he was still drastically under-informed about the entire affair, Harry knew that if those Dementor-like creatures wanted to have it, then he wanted the opposite.  

Arwen sent another scathing look at Harry and turned to Strider, or Aragon, or _why can’t people just use one name and stick to it! This is just like another game of the many titles of Severus Snape/ The Half-Blood Prince and Tom M. Riddle/Moldeywart. Sheesh._

_“I don’t trust the Shadowed One; he reeks of death and sorrow. I wouldn’t have him with me, yet I fear leaving him with the undefended. Tell him he may join me, but at a distance. He must also pass judgment before entering Rivendell; I shan’t unwittingly bring danger to my home, even for you.”_

 Harry had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep in the burning retort of how he had been the one to _protect_ those _undefended_ just a few hours ago and had done a fairly decent job, _thank you very much._ Strider would hopefully set her straight.

  _“I must agree; everything about him and the circumstances in which he turned up is suspicious. However, he hasn’t shown any signs of betrayal yet and he has proven to be an adept fighter. Use him as protection, but don’t leave him alone with Frodo. Farewell.”_

The metallic taste of blood had begun to taint Harry’s mouth by the end of Strider’s reply. The effort of keeping his face blank and expectant was killing him, and the onset of exhaustion-induced crankiness wasn’t helping any. _I suppose it is nice to know where I stand; at least the hobbits still like me._ He looked over at Sam, who was inching his way closer to the beautiful elf and copying her analyzing glances at Harry, as if trying to find out what she obviously saw lacking in the wizard. _Trust is earned, not given; trust is earned, not given; trust is earned, not given… mantras never have worked for me._

Manny was squeezing around Harry’s abdomen with dangerous strength, but he had stayed blessedly quiet during the entire event, to which Harry was thankful. Snakes probably weren’t feared as much as they were in his world, but being BFFs with a venomous reptile likely wouldn’t earn him any points in the strict Elf’s book. _I should introduce Manny to them gently. Maybe by putting him in Strider’s pillowcase before he goes to sleep and letting them get acquainted? Yeah, that should show that I’m to be trusted…._

Strider told Harry that Arwen had agreed to his plan, though not without some minor concerns. The wizard then sheathed his sword and covertly drew his wand into his left sleeve since it would be more useful before mounting his horse to follow after the elf, who had already taken off. The entire exchange had only lasted a matter of minutes, yet the Black Riders had gained a significant amount of ground during the time and Harry could hear them close behind them. Thankfully, they seemed to have passed by Strider and the rest of the hobbits, uninterested in anything other than the Ring on the chain around Frodo’s neck.

The elf and the wizard flew through the murky, surreal woods with Arwen leading, moving as quickly as they could without running into any trees. Harry concentrated on the plant life and conveyed the danger the riders following him presented. They lent their meager help, but the vines were too slow and too weak against the solid strides of the Nazgûls’ horses to have any effect. Harry’s tired magic also lent its faint assistance, weighing down the air around the enemy horses enough to keep the faster undead steads from overtaking them.   

The sun began breaking over the horizon as they finally arrived at an opening in the forest. An expanse of nothing but dead grass led up to a wide rocky creak that ran vertically ahead of Arwen and Harry. The two raced across the space; the Black Riders were able to gain quickly on them now that there was no nature impeding their way and Harry’s magic had finally given out.

The Nazgûl had drawn close behind them and were beginning to enclose around their prey when they reached the creek. The Black Riders pulled back their horses and stopped at the edge of the bank, while Harry and Arwen rode halfway into the shallow running water. Frodo’s condition had drastically worsened during the escape; his eyes had nearly completely clouded over, hiding the blue of his irises.

 Harry looked over at Arwen, hoping for a snappy exit strategy. She kept looking up the river, as if waiting for something to happen. The Black Riders demanded for them to hand over the Halfling, to which Arwen replied, much to Harry’s annoyance, that they should come and get him.

And so they did just as she baited. The Nazgûl began coxing their horses into the water, slowly moving towards them. Arwen had her eyes trained on the advancing party and was slowly retreating out of the water on the other side. Harry drew his sword, deciding to stay in the water in order to act as a barrier between the Nazgûl and Frodo and Arwen.

As the Nine drew closer, a rushing sound suddenly came from the source of the water, and Harry looked over in alarm to see a large wave coming towards him and the Nazgûl. He looked back at Arwen, who had a victorious smile that dropped in horror once she realized that Harry was still in the water.

“Out, out, come quickly!” The elf yelled in Westron. “Ada did not plan for another; you are not protected. Come now!”

Yet it was too late. Harry tried to turn Luna around from where he had been facing the Nazgûl, but the wave had been commanded to come so swiftly that anyone farther than a meter or two from the shore couldn’t escape being washed away. It was the perfect trap for the Black Riders, and worked too well.

The water hit the wizard as surely as it did the Nazgûl, and with little strength left and no magic to protect himself, Harry was thrown back by its force. His head struck a stone on the stream bed, and Harry’s world went silent and black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as something to possibly look forward to, I have plans to start a little series entitled Harry’s Adventures, which will depict what happened during the two months between when Harry left the forest and when he arrived at the Prancing Pony. It will either appear as interlude chapters in this story (which will be clearly indicated in the chapter title as not to mislead), or as a separate drabble chain; I haven’t decided yet. Opinions?


	7. A Council of Ninnies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot-armored wizard wakes up somewhere and....

And they keep coming:

 ** _We speech forms will never die out; we will continue multiplying until the end!_** = Mental communication

Chapter 7: A Council of Ninnies

_"There is nothing more you can do here, Estel. The two only need rest now; go and enjoy the company of the aware and leave the wounded to their recovery.”_

_"Very well, My Lord Elrond. But, please, send for me if either of them awake.”_

The sound of heavy boots making their way from the bed across the room and the solid _thunk_ that ended the sound signaled to Harry that Strider had finally left. The wizard had woken up hours ago, once his magic had restored itself enough to accelerate his return to consciousness. His body had already nearly completely recovered from the bruises and breaks it had received, which he could only assume was the work of the elves who had been moving in and out of the room constantly. Rather than moving and alerting those present to his condition, Harry had decided to instead feign sleep and reached out with his mind to his familiar.

Before the wave hit, Harry had managed to whisper the words that activated the protection spells that he had placed on Luna and Manny years ago. He shivered as he pictured what could have happened if he had never put those precautions into place.

 While the wizard himself could take the damage from the rocks and knew he would be patched up, Luna would have been in much greater danger if she had gotten hurt without Harry able to immediately heal her. A broken leg for a horse was often a fatal injury as their owners had no use for a pack animal that can’t walk and while Harry didn’t think the elves would put down his horse without his consent, he was glad he didn’t have to take that risk. Not to mention, while the elves might have been able to help Luna, Manny would have been on his own; Harry hadn’t yet told anyone of his scaly familiar, and the snake would have probably been left to drown in the flood without any protection.

As soon as Harry had regained consciousness, he had searched out the connection forged between his mind and Manny’s to ensure that the wards had been effective in keeping the snake safe. Their mind link was rusty from lack of use; the two were usually always together, with Manny wrapped around the wizard’s shoulders or stomach, and it took a lot of panicked yelling on Harry’s part before he finally got a response.   

Manny, as it turned out, had been flung out of the water when Harry hit his head, where he had landed harmlessly on the grass thanks to the spells. He had then proceeded to hitch a ride on one of the distracted elves who came to rescue Harry before finally sneaking under the bed in which they placed his human in. The next twenty-four hours were, according to Manny, filled with “desperate pleas to a cruel, heartless deity and long, sleepless hours of worry”. The only bright spot was that the snake had been able to assure the slightly panicked wizard that Luna had made it out without a scratch as well. Harry had taken the rant with a fond smile after that, so relieved at his friends’ safety that he didn’t even feel the need to point out that Manny had been snoring peacefully enough when the wizard first woke up.  

Once their happy reunion was ruined by an off-hand comment from Manny ( ** _You know what would have made those pain-filled hours more bearable? That lady friend you promised me months ago and still haven’t delivered. Snakes have needs, human minion._** _),_ Harry had sent the slippery snake out to scout the grounds of Rivendell. It was bad enough that he had no idea where the Elven city was in the first place as he hadn’t yet had time to check the guide’s maps, but since he had been unconscious when he was brought in, Harry didn’t even know how to leave if a hasty escape was needed.   

Since then Harry had kept still on the soft cot, regulating his breathing for appearances. His attention was split between listening in on the conversations around him and looking through his familiar’s eyes as he tried to direct his ADD snake in finding the exits and where Luna was being held. It didn’t work out very well.

After finally giving up on the scouting mission, Harry told Manny that he could roam around on his own and focused in on those around him. From what he had heard, Frodo was recovering in a bed on the other side of the room near the door. The other hobbits were forbidden from visiting their friend yet and only light-footed elven healers who murmured distastefully about evil filth tainting their sacred Hall of Healing glided around the room, tending to Frodo as he slept. Harry was just contemplating the best way of terrifying the obnoxious nurses to alieve his boredom when a man, Strider, going by his voice, and another elf entered the room. The others had immediately left the room to allow the two privacy, bowing and giving blessings to Strider’s companion.

From their conversation, Harry learned that Frodo had been healed just in time and would be fine after a few days of rest. Also, to the wizard’s relief, the elf mentioned that the hobbits were eagerly awaiting the chance to see Harry as well as their friend. This was also when he realized that his ruse was up.

Once Strider left the room, Harry finally opened his eyes and turned his head towards the only other conscious being in the room. A male elf of noble stature and long, dark locks stood at Frodo’s bedside, his eyes trained on the wizard’s form. He didn’t seem to be angry or condescending at Harry’s failed trickery, but rather looked curious. His countenance was similar to that of Treebeard’s; it spoke of an aged wisdom and the patience and time to outwait Harry until he got the answers he desired.

“How did you know I was awake? “ Harry asked directly. He had participated in plenty of staring contest with the Ents whenever he tried to get his way and had lost enough to know how ineffective they were.

The elf, Elrond, stayed where he was and rested a hand on Frodo’s headboard. “I sensed the magic within you as soon as you were brought in. It had been increasing by leaps and bounds as it replenished itself, until it suddenly became stable a little while ago; I assume that is when you awakened.”

_Well, so much for hiding my magic. So how do I explain it in a believable manner..... Ah, yes; avoidance of the problem and fleeing is obviously the only solution._

Harry turned to look at the door, glanced back at the elf, sent another look at the unguarded door, indulged in a quick check under the sheets to assure everything was properly covered and then innocently glanced once more at the elf. 

The corners of Elrond’s mouth slid upwards slightly in an amused smile as he tilted his head back a bit. “You are not a prisoner here, Istari, but a guest. You have nothing to fear from me and are free to leave and explore any time you wish.”

“Indeed? Yet, I have a feeling that your sentiment isn’t widely shared. Or, do you usually keep your patients on opposite sides of the room and feel the need to protect one from the other?”

The slight smile dropped from the elf’s face and his arm fell back down to his side. Harry couldn’t help but take the elder’s refusal to leave Frodo’s side as a sign of distrust. For some reason, the elves seemed to share a feeling of disgust and even slight fear of him, according to what he had gathered from Arwen and the healers’ reactions. Although it wasn’t anything he hadn’t received from the fickle Wizarding public in his old world, it was hard to face the fact that he couldn’t escape prejudice even where no one knew him, especially after the fairly easy acceptance he had gained from the Ents.    

“You have a feeling about you that doesn’t fit with your youthful appearance. As we elves are a more spiritual race than others, many have also sensed the odd magic that surrounds you and have taken it as something I believe it is not. These are dark times; nevertheless, I will do my best to dispel the false assumptions made about you. It will be your responsibility, however, to replace them with the truth of your character.”

_How did this turn into such a deep conversation and with a stranger, no less? Merlin, I feel like I am speaking with Dumbledore when he was on one of his wizened lemon drop sugar highs._

Harry decided to trust the elf for now and slowly got out of the cot. The elves had taken the liberty to disrobe him of his soaked cloak and garments (his pants were still on, thankfully) and had dressed him in a soft white gown; the Elder Wand was placed on the white table beside his cot. The entire room, Harry finally noticed, was a glaring shade of pure _white_ and reminded him far too much of the muggle hospital he had needed to visit yearly for mandatory checkups during his time with the Dursleys. 

Without another look at Elrond, Harry grabbed his wand, transfigured the elven clothing into black pants and a simple brown V-neck. The Invisibility Cloak came to him on its own, settling around his shoulders once he was fully dressed, and his ring warmed on his finger, as if to remind Harry that it had never abandoned him. Harry crossed the room, but paused at the door. He glanced over at Frodo; the hobbit wasn’t in as bad a shape as when the wizard had last seen him, but he was still far too pale and was taking shallow breathes.

He sent one final glance at Elrond. “I don’t plan on going anywhere until I am able to speak to Frodo once more, possibly for a farewell. I shall do my best to keep out of the way and not involve myself in your affairs; I wouldn’t want to frighten anyone.”

“Of course,” the elf conceded. Just as Harry slipped through the door, Elrond called out “food is served at an hour before sun down and the fast is broken at sunrise.”

The hallway outside of the healing room had an exceedingly tall ceiling and white marble columns lined the right side rather than a wall, revealing a gorgeous view of mountains and waterfalls. Harry walked along the stone path and continued down flights of stairs, ignoring the elves who grew silent watched him as he passed. _Odd magical aura-type feeling or not, this staring is just impolite and unnecessary._   

Deciding to cut away from the path and the judgmental elves, Harry passed through the greenery and followed the rustle of the bushes and the bending of the flowers, trusting nature to lead him somewhere pleasant. He eventually arrived at a secluded alcove, hidden by tall hedges that parted for Harry to enter. A small, still pond rested in the middle of the clearing and an old stone bench sat in front of its edge with Manny sun-bathing on the smooth surface.

Harry snorted and walked over to sit next his friend. **< Enjoying yourself, I see.>**

**< Ahhh, yesss. There just aren’t many rocks like these usually found out in the wild; this place is paradise.>**

**< That isn’t a rock, but a purposely made seat, and this isn’t the wild, but a fully civilized city.> **Harry replied dubiously. His snake just hissed out in contentment and rolled over, ignoring the logic that was infringing upon his peace.

Setting his elbows on his knees, Harry hunched over and peered at his reflection in the water, trying to see what had caused the elves such unease in his presence. His eyes were a bit eerie in their glow, so much like the Killing Curse’s flash of light, but the rest of his face wasn’t anything too odd. The lack of a constant diet that resulted from Harry consistently forgetting to eat led his pale face to mostly be comprised of sharp angles and planes. The wizard recalled what Arwen had said about him, about being able to feel death on him.

Harry glared down at the Resurrection Stone. “This is all your fault, isn’t it? The rest of the Hallows are in on it as well I’d bet. No wonder no one has ever been the Master of Death before; you guys are a real pain.” The stone set in the ring seemed to shine for a moment in pride at the recognition.

Flopping down on the bench, Harry looked up at the falling sun and sighed. It really was beautiful here; the pink and blue of the fading sky sharply contrasted with the dark contour of the mountains, creating a lovely, picturesque scene. Closing his eyes, Harry allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by the hissing breathes of his familiar in the light of the rising moon.

~ Two Days Later ~

Harry slowly opened the door and reentered the white room in which he had fled from just a few days ago. After hearing that Frodo had finally woken up and was ready to receive visitors, Harry thought it would be best to make an appearance.

He had spent some time hanging around in the trees and pulling some minor pranks on the uptight elves, reasserting himself in his Marauder heritage. The frog in a tuxedo singing forlornly to a recently widowed fly over the salad plate during lunch last night had been an exceptionally hilarious endeavor, in his opinion, and was most definitely worth the volley of arrows he had to dodge afterwards. Harry had primarily taken to camping out in his peaceful alcove, though, in order to avoid the parties of men and dwarves who were flooding into Rivendell. The entire city was filling more and more with different races and Harry really couldn’t decide if he should stay and try to help, or cut his losses and run for the hills before he got too invested. He had only joined the group after leaving Bree a couple of days prior, yet he had already been in more danger then he has since arriving in Middle Earth. Although, Harry did have to admit that he had also felt the most excitement and thrill in just the first day than he had since the war.

Harry also wasn’t sure what more help he could be. He had taken a look at the vial of Rodolph’s memories in the pensive he had packed after finding it hidden in one of the hut’s many rooms, but they didn’t hold any helpful information that he could decipher. It had mainly contained the history he had already learned from Strider and a lot of half-formed thoughts.

His choice of involvement was made for him, however, when he entered the healing room only to be bombarded by a handful of joyful hobbits.

Pippin and Merry danced circles around the wizard, singing loudly “Our hero has returned, our hero had returned! Bring forth the sparkling fire sticks and the celebratory wine. Ehhh, that is, you are old enough to drink, right?”  

Sam was far more conservative in his welcome, but still gifted Harry with a bright smile and an offered slice of pie. The wizard suspected that he may have felt a bit guilty about questioning him after he had saved their lives, but Harry held no ill will and accepted the peace offering as he took a seat by Frodo’s bedside.

The dark-haired hobbit looked much healthier, his skin glowing with life due to the dedicated care of the elves. He looked somewhat disgruntled at being confined to the bed, but never the less beamed at Harry as he sat down.

“Good Evening, Mr. Harry. Sam, Merry and Pippin have been singing your praises and recounting your bravery in the battle against the Ringwraiths.” Frodo’s smile flattered at the memory and put his hand to his chest, where the Ring lay on a golden chain over his heart. “You have my thanks for your assistance; for without it I fear I would longer be here.”

With a nod, Harry accepted the hobbit’s thanks. “Of course, Mr. Frodo Baggins from Underhill, but I must admit the pleasure was mostly mine; those dirty laundry bags were a great help in getting some exercise. I am afraid spending so much time on Luna hasn’t helped my waistline at all. And, please, just call me Harry.” The hobbits humored the wizard with light smiles at his gentle teasing, likely relived that he wasn’t yelling at them for their error. As far as Harry was concerned, it was better for the sheltered hobbits to learn what constituted as fatal mistakes now rather than when they were out on their own.

“Where have you been?” Pippin asked excitedly. “The Master Elf said that you woke up days ago, but we haven’t seen you at meals. Are you avoiding us? Have you met Gandalf yet? Did you know that they only have _three_ meals here? Apparently they have never heard of second breakfast, or elevenses, and afternoon tea is completely disregarded and-”

“Oh, Pippin, _please_ do stop going on. I don’t believe Mr. Harry wants to hear your complaints about your appetite, which are truly ridiculous, by the way. I mean honestly, there is a reason they always have fruits set out; we are obviously supposed to eat them as a substitute for the other meals.” Sam scolded his friend as Merry silently mimicked his hand movements and speech behind him, causing Pippin to slap his hand over his mouth to hold in the laughter, which brought on another round of rebuke.

Harry stared at them quizzically; he was pretty sure the fruit was set out as an offering to some sort of deity, based on the ceremonies he had seen taking place around the bowl each morning, but felt that his input wouldn’t be appreciated presently.

Frodo and Harry continued watching the show the three hobbits were unintentionally putting on, until the door opened and Strider, Arwen, an old man and Elrond entered the room.

The mobile hobbits immediately made to assault the Ranger and the old man as they had done to Harry, but aborted their mission once they saw the company that was with them. Strider sighed a bit but took a few steps forward, away from his companions, giving the hobbits permission to greet him in their own special way.

Harry sent a cautious look at Arwen, who, after making eye contact with her father, replied with a strained smile. Her right eye even twitched a little. _Drat, I am probably going to have to deal with that soon._ Harry dreaded the oncoming conversation he knew he would need to have with the elf to clear the waters. Unfortunately, his awkward teenage romance with Ginny and the brief relationships he had during the war only minorly helped his complete lack of finesse with the fairer sex, and the time he had spent with Luna actually made him regress a bit, since he had gotten use to only needing to deal with one person. However, since he planned on staying for the time being and Strider seemed to hold her opinion in high regard, it wouldn’t be wise for Harry to allow Arwen’s opinion of him to continue on being so negative without her actually knowing him at all.

Elrond walked farther into the room and addressed the occupants. “Now that you have awoken, young Frodo, I hope you will be well enough to join us. A council is being called pertaining to the possession you carry and Gandalf has requested you attend.” He turned to look appealingly at Harry. “Your presence would also be appreciated, if you would be willing.”

Harry was biting his lip as he studied the gray man holding a staff similar to Rodolph’s in his hand, who was still standing in the door frame. So this was the great wizard Gandalf the hobbits had gone on about, as well as the man who had sent Frodo off with the Ring and only dispatched a single man to protect the hobbits. He reminded Harry too much of Dumbledore when the old wizard took on the advantageous role of puppet master. While the man had been a dear mentor and friend to Harry, he had to admit that his manipulations, while good-intentioned, often backfired since no one else was in on the whole plan and many got fed up with his plots. He would need to keep a careful eye on the older wizard to ensure he wouldn’t inadvertently endanger the hobbits.

As these thoughts were running threw his mind, Harry wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation and found himself absentmindedly nodding along with Frodo. He abruptly stopped and looked up, alarmed at what he could have just agreed to. Based on the self-satisfied smirk on Elrond’s face and the disgruntled one Arwen had, Harry had a bad feeling that he would regret his inattention.     

This was how Harry found himself shuffling uncomfortably on a stone slab trying to pass off as a seat that he shared with Frodo a few hours later, silently seething at his own foolishness. The very people he had spent the last few days succeeding in avoiding were filing into the open room, taking seats in the circle that surrounded a stone pedestal.

Harry could feel the weight of several eyes on him, sizing him up and wondering who he was and what made him good enough to be there. Curling up in on himself, Harry pulled his knees to his chest and threw his arms around his head, peaking in between them to see. _That’s right, nothing to see here you nosy parasites._ Eventually all of the attendees arrived and Elrond rose from his seat and indicated for Frodo to place the Ring on the center column before addressing the crowd.

“We have come here to make a choice; one that will likely decide the fate of our realm for many centuries to come. The ring must be destroyed in the land of Mordor within the fires of Mount Doom in which it was created; one of you must bring it forth. The path we choose here will determine if this land and its people will fall into an eternal darkness or not.”       

What followed could only be described, in the politest of terms, as an utter shit storm. Men, dwarves and elves alike began yelling out ideas and claiming to be the best candidate to take the ring. A voice rose, stating “One does not simply walk into Mordor*”, before it was drowned out again. The group of dwarves got into a particularly nasty argument with a few elven lords, the bad blood between to two races running hot, which led to a deafening shouting match.

Suddenly, a fully-bearded dwarf yelled out “what are we waiting for” and ran at the Ring, bringing down his mighty axe in an attempt to promptly destroy the artifact.

Harry just rolled his eyes as the dwarf was thrown back by a burst of power from the Ring, his axe shattering from the force. Frodo jerked violently beside him, probably startled by the noise, and Harry set a comforting hand on his shoulder. _What an idiot; Elrond just said that the only way to terminate the Ring was via scary boiling volcano. Oh, wait a second; I think I know that idiot……_

“Gimli? Do you really think that was the smartest thing you could have done?” Harry uncurled from his position slightly as he questioned the dwarf, curious to see if it was really his old acquaintance.

The dwarf’s head shot up in surprise and he quickly jumped up from the ground. “Forest Spirit? Is that you? You’re the one everyone had been talking about, sneaking around this city of polished rocks like a thief! Why did you not tell me you were here, we could have grabbed a pint or-”

“Enough!” A golden haired man shot from his seat. “This isn’t the time for pleasantries! We are here to decide the fate of the Ring; I say we use it as the weapon it is. The Ring isn’t a curse, but instead a gift to the foes of Mordor. Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!*" The man, Boromir, reached out for the Ring, his hand hovering over gold band.

Gandalf stepped forward from his place standing beside Frodo and began to chant in a heavy voice. The Resurrection Stone flashed searing hot on Harry’s hand and a breeze blew by his ear, whispering the translation for the words.

“One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

 One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them.*”

A chill worked its way up Harry’s spine and the gathering grew silent, the members horrified at hearing such speech within the sacred elven walls. Boromir’s hand fell away to his side as he took a few steps back and fell into his seat. Elrond sent a look full of warning and reprimand at the gray wizard, but Gandalf continued to look into each person’s eyes to ensure his  message was received, stating “I do not ask for your pardon, Master Elrond, for the black speech of Mordor might yet be heard in every corner of the Earth.*”

Strider finally looked up from the seat he had taken on the other side of Harry, where he had been staring at the ground, contemplating the proceedings of the council. “The Ring cannot be used by just anyone; it only serves the dark master which created it. Trying to bend it to your will won’t work as your mind will be poisoned by its influence, twisted and warped into madness until you are little more than the creature Gollum.”

Boromir rose once more, gaining confidence as righteous rage ran through him. "And what would a shadowed ranger such as yourself know of these matters?"

A blond elf, the one who Gimli had been arguing one-on-one with earlier, rose to defend Strider. "This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn and heir to the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance.*"

The man stiffened and turned to Strider, eyeing him wearily. "Aragorn? This…. is Isildur's heir?" His mouth turned down in a sneer. “Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king.*” With that proclamation, Boromir turned around and sat back down in dismissal.

Harry heard Strider trying to calm the elf Legolas down, but only distantly. He kept hearing the titles the elf had called Strider over and over in his head. _Aragorn….. Son of Arathorn……_ _heir to the throne of Gondor…..Strider is Aragorn, the future King of Gondor. Then according to Death’s Prophecy, he needs my help to……. Oh, fuck_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *End Author’s Note: Wow, I sure butchered a lot of quotes from the movie and books, didn’t I? Sorry to any hard-core fans who had a stoke while reading this. The stared lines are direct quotes or, aka, even more not mine than the rest of it. 
> 
> Warning: The next chapter will most likely be an interlude, since the side stories will affect the main plot; for example, they will explain how Harry already knows Gimli.


	8. Interlude: Harry's Adventures- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turning back the clock a bit here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be coming soon, but until then I have got to tell you, this interlude was just so much fun to write (if you don't get something, then assume I was trying to be funny and failing) and VERY RELEVANT!
> 
> But, fair warning: some of the fighting scenes are more graphic than usual, though not ridiculous‒I rated this story teen and up for a reason. Younger readers: be cautious. I am not marking the fights, because they are mixed in with everything else, but stop reading if you get disturbed.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful Noradin. Any mistakes you see are still mine, though.

Upon the Lonely Mountain Nature Calls

The crunching sound of dry leaves being crushed under Luna's hooves and the faint, lazy beat of Hedwig's wings flying circles a ways above his head threatened to lull Harry to sleep. It had been a week since he had set out northwards from the Forest of Fangorn and little of note had happened. In fact, the most interesting diversion had occurred when a small group of thieves tried to rob him on the road a few hours after Manny fell asleep around Harry's neck.

Instead of fighting back, the wizard had simply slid off Luna and stood with his arms spread as he let them rid him of the non-existent valuables he carried until one of the men received a nasty surprise when the oddly patterned scarf he was trying to nab fought back. After basking in the satisfaction of finally being able to seemingly pull one over on Lady Luck and Fate for a few moments, Harry had drawn his hidden sword and wand and easily incapacitated the other three men, who were armed only with some farming tools and kitchen knives, enough so that they wouldn't follow him.

His amusement, however, had been dulled and then quickly extinguished once he found out the next day that the men weren't actually robbers with harmful intentions. While resting in a tavern near Lórien, he overheard a couple of men whispering about a nearby village that was in a bad way and had to resort to petty road theft just to get by. But a quarter of their men had been hurt the other day and couldn't fight anymore, which meant the little village was sure to perish since their meagre income was cut and they couldn't defend themselves if attacked by the growing number of rogue orc packs roaming around.

Harry's half-drunk glass of water was left on the counter and the weak village was surprised the next morning when their men awoke miraculously healed and a pocket of gold was found in the stream running beside their borders by a young boy fetching water.

The main roads were avoided after this as Harry led Luna through the grasslands towards the forest of Mirkwood. According to the guide, a race of prosperous woodland elves inhabited the forest and were supposed to be relatively welcoming to those with magic, at least according to an entry from Wilhelm Droxer, a German wizard from the 16th Century. He described his visit as having 'enough good mead and pretty trees to overcome the bad company and too well-kept-for-comfort dungeons'. The place sounded pleasant enough to Harry, so he decided to begin his vacation/journey there.

Upon arrival at the edge of the forest after only four days of travel ‒thanks to Luna's magically enhanced gait‒, Harry quickly realized that the advertisement was more than a bit misleading.

The trees were very pretty, it was true, but the humid air and the darkness that invade every little notch and corner, despite the position of the sun high in the sky, sufficiently killed the inviting atmosphere. The occasional set of partially decayed bones and scraps of clothing that could be seen littering the ground from outside the border also did little to inspire hope in his mission.

The trees were too high and densely packed for Luna to safely pass through, so Harry unpacked his shrunken trunk from his horse's saddle, created the illusion of an exceedingly scary looking man riding her to ward off unwanted intervention and sent her off around the woods to meet him on the other side of the forest. He planned on staying with the elves only briefly and Hedwig would be able to check on Luna to ensure she was safe. His owl had gained a lot of experience flying through tall trees, so this wouldn't prove much of a challenge for her.

With Hedwig perched on his shoulder and Manny climbing down his legs to slither on the ground in search of breakfast, Harry set out into the murky forest.

There was an old stone path that the guide advised on following, so Harry stuck to it the best he could. The high treetops blocked out the light of the day, creating an eternally dim space underneath that sent an uneasy feeling through his chest. Plants protruded and sprouted up from between the slabs of stone, breaking up the path and making it hard to tell where it was going. He followed it over fallen trunks, past sketchy creaks, across bridges and even around a few useless loops. Then suddenly, the last visible traces of the path disappeared completely.

Harry paused and frowned at the abrupt end. It was as if he was staring through a slightly warped window; the spot he was watching was out of focus and his eyes stung the longer he looked at it. Closing his eyes, Harry pressed the pads of his fingers tightly over his lids and whispered a dispelling charm. A weight seemed to lift from his head and he blinked his eyes a few times before looking at the path again. Sure enough, the broken stones were there, leading even deeper into the darkness beyond.

 _There is magic besides mine here. Old magic, placed here by one seeking to make travelers lose their way. But for what purpose? Was it the elves themselves trying to keep people away from their land?_ Frustrated by the lack of answers, Harry continued on after picking up Manny, despite the snake's protests about the suppression of freedom and serpentine rights, and looped him around his left arm, leaving the right free to grasp the Elder Wand.

As the light lessened even more with the sun falling during the evening, Harry grew surer that there was something watching from the shadows, a predator waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey. The pitter patter of dozens of sharp feet froze the wizard. Harry cast a cautious look around before raising his wand to the darkness muttering "Lumos".

The bright light revealed a disturbing scene. Ginormous spider webs, previously invisible in the dimness, were strewed all throughout the surrounding forest, hanging off of trees and spread out among the undergrowth. In fact, if he had gone just a few more meters, Harry would have walked straight into a particularly wide web spanning the width of the path.

Cursing under his breath, Harry took several steps back and ushered Manny around his torso so he could pull out the Sword of Gryffindor. These webs looked just like the ones made by the Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest. If the creatures here were anything like Aragog and his children, then Harry had no intention of sticking around to meet them.

But Hedwig was flying around somewhere, checking on Luna. If she got caught in one of these webs… Bollocks.

After taking a deep breath, Harry raised his wand and sent up a bright flare that broke through the treetops and then took off running. This would hopefully warn Hedwig against returning, attract the spiders towards him and away from her, and maybe even grab the attention of any nearby elves. He had a feeling he would need any help he could get…and soon.

Dashing through the trees, the sound of legs, of spider's legs, scuttling towards him motivated Harry to run faster. He felt the brush of something grabbing for him on the back of his leg and blindly flung a _Locomotor Mortis_ behind him. The following crash, succeeded by several thumps from other spiders running into their fallen companion told Harry that the leg-locking charm had worked. Using the distraction to gain some time, Harry ran a few more paces before stopping and turning around.

The spiders were nearly as big as Aragog and by the mad dash they were making towards Harry, they appeared to share his taste for human flesh. After sending an _Incarcerous_  to tie up the closest spiders and give himself a little more room, Harry sent a mental apology to the forest and made a protective barrier around himself before casting a powerful  _Incendio_. The spell flew before him and exploded into flames directly on the front line of spiders. The creatures shied away from the fire and their burning brethren, many retreating back to their nests.

Several stayed, however, and crawled around the perimeter of the flames, determined not to give up their meal. Harry fired off a few impediment jinxes to freeze five of the spiders and severed several giant furry legs, but more still came, both lured in by the light and repelled by the heat. They used their webs and came down from the trees, landing near Harry and trying to stick him with their fangs and immobilize him.

They were too close for Harry to use his wand, so he raised his sword and prepared to stab at the closest spider, aiming for the neck.

Just then an arrow flew past Harry's shoulder and into the eye of the oncoming spider, causing it to jerk back in pain and allowing Harry time to make a hasty retreat. Looking behind him, he was immensely relieved to spot at least a dozen brown and blond archers dotting the trees and even more elves coming forward with swords drawn.

With knowledge of the backup coming to help him, Harry threw himself forward into the fight, the Sword of Gryffindor slicing cleanly through the spider's hides. The wave of elves came up behind him and made quick work of the giant arachnids, obviously used to fighting off the infestation. Within a few minutes the spiders had all been slain or fled. Harry set the tip of his sword on the ground and leaned back against a tree, relieved at the swift rescue.

"Oh thank Merlin am I glad you came; it would have taken me a while to get out of that. I was even worried for a second there that I was going to become fried wizard crisps for those giant sp-"

The arrow that would have impaled Harry to the tree if not for the invisible shield still in place brought a swift end to any gratitude he felt.

Harry jerked upright and raised his sword again, staring warily at the two dozen elves pointing their drawn bows in his direction. Their apparent leader, a woodland elf that looked just a bit too much like a brown haired Malfoy, stepped forward to address Harry.

" _Keep your weapons prepared and be ready to fire at my signal_. You are trespassing on our lands, Stranger. Men aren't welcome here, though there seems to be something… different about you; my arrow hasn't missed its target in a long time, and shouldn't have today." The elf looked at Harry consideringly before coming to a decision. "You may choose to come with us quietly to the dungeons, where you will be questioned by our King, Thranduil, or be cut down where you stand."

Harry blinked a few times. Oh yes, the well-used dungeons Droxer mentioned… Yeah, he thought he would pass on taking a chance with the elfish hospitality. Nothing about this suggested visiting their kingdom would end well for him. He thought there was also a Dwarfish city somewhere nearby where he could go to instead…

Turning his attention back towards the most recent threat to his life, Harry gave a winning smile to the elves and sheathed his sword. His hands went behind his back and he pulled his wand out of the sleeve he had put it in once the elves came. While blind apparation was definitely something he had wanted to avoid, desperate times called for desperate measures.

"As much as I would love to meet your king and inform him of the horrendous job he has done with the decor of this forest over tea‒you have seen the chewed on skeletons, right? It is both nasty and unsanitary‒I am afraid I have a prior engagement, so... bye."

Just as the elves fired their weapons at his refusal to cooperate, Harry pictured what the eastern edge of the forest would look like and apparated.

The world spun around him and he shut his eyes to avoid nausea before landing face first on the ground. Opening his eyes, Harry rolled over and took quick inventory of his limbs.

 _Head? Check, obviously. Shoulders? Still there. Knees? Yep, along with my toes, knees and toes, knees and toe- no, bad Harry, no nursery rhymes, snap out of it. Hmm, torso with decorative whining snake? Oh, most definitely. <_ **Shut up for a moment Manny, I am trying to make sure I didn't butcher one of us! >**

**< Well, you don't have to wonder, because I am most definitely hurt. It is called emotional trauma, Harry! Giant Spiders! Murderous, rampaging elves! A forest without warm rocks in a ray of sunlight! The Ents had it right, darkness is taking over; the world will end in fire, not in a freezing, bottomless river after the aquatic rebellion like my sire said it would. Cursed fish.>**

**<......... >**

Harry abandoned his efforts and slowly sat up, looking around. To his relief, it seemed they had made it out of the forest, but he wasn't quite sure as to where they had landed. A single mountain could be seen in the distance and the edge of the woods that he had escaped were only about a kilometer behind him. Harry had just pulled out the Traveler's Guide to figure out where he was, which he quickly figured out thanks to the obvious landmark that was the Lonely Mountain, when a loud screech drew his gaze upwards.

A panicked Hedwig was flying over the trees and, upon spotting her friend, crashed into Harry. The owl began frantically accosting him to make sure he wasn't injured, scared by the flare that Harry always used in the Forest of Fangorn to warn Hedwig to stay away when he was fighting and didn't want her involved.

"I'm fine, Hedwig, I am fine! No need to worry, pretty lady. I am sorry about the warning flare, I just needed to ensure you were safe" His owl hooted once and smacked him over the head with her wing to assert that she wasn't fazed in the least by his flattery and was still mad at him for making her worry. "Alright, how far away is Luna?" Hedwig hooted thrice in response. "Three hours away? Well, that isn't too bad I guess. I am glad we didn't go too far. Speaking of which… how exactly did you find us so quickly?" Hedwig turned her head away in offense at the question and began to preen her feathers in a clear dismissal. "… Right, okay."

Harry sat back down and settled in to wait for his horse to arrive, glad for the chance to rest for a few hours. He was disappointed with the reception he had received from the elves; their caution was further proof to him that something seriously bad was going on. It made him want to return home even more, but Treebeard must have sent him away for a reason; it just wasn't yet clear what that reason was.

"For Erebor!"

"Ahhhhhhhhh!"

"Thorin, noooo!"

"It is time to make peace with your petty Gods, dwarven scum."

The clashing of swords and the screams of loss startled Harry into full awareness. He jumped to his feet, upsetting Hedwig from her spot on his chest, and raised his wand. Spinning around to catch sight of the battle, Harry was confused to find the land just as still as it was before he closed his eyes.

Bemused, Harry turned to Hedwig. "What was that? Did you see where the noise came from?" His owl just blinked at him shrewdly and awkwardly hopped farther away before perching on a rock and tucking her head under her wing to resume her nap.

 **< Wha? Are we leaving now? Just a few more minutes…>** Manny groggily lifted his head from the grass he had nested in to peer at Harry.

**< No. Didn't you hear them, the voices? It sounded as if a war was taking place right next to us!>**

Manny eyed Harry pityingly and sadly shook his head. < **I always knew this day would come, but I was hoping for more time to mooch off of you. It has happened: you have finally snapped. Gone loco. The train has left the station. You’ve had one too many lemon drops. > **Harry really wished he hadn’t told Manny all of those stories about his life and taught him muggle slang, but the snake was just so annoying when he was bored and he had needed a distraction. < **It is alright Harry; I will stick with you until the end. Or until you try to kill me with a spoon; then I am trading you in for a new model. >**

"Help…..please help us…"

"Smaug has burned Dale!"

"…there will be no help from the elves today either, just like I said…"

Harry turned towards the sound of the voices. They were much fainter now, almost like echoes, and were coming from the direction of the mountain. He debated for a minute on waiting for Luna, but she was still a few hours away and the voices were insistent, fading and then reappearing with vigor. Little girls' screams and grown men yelling tore through the air, tempting Harry to find their origin.

"Wait here Hedwig, and lead Luna to us once she arrives," Harry told his owl, who ruffled her feathers slightly in response. He wasn't worried about her losing her way; Hedwig had always been able to find Harry, even when he himself didn't know where he was. Placing Manny around his shoulders, Harry pulled out the broomstick he had crafted four years ago with the help of a magical manual, the willing donation of a branch from Treebeard and too much spare time, and took off in the direction of the mountain.

He flew peacefully for an hour, following the ghost of voices crying for help, before a much more real noise drew his attention to the ground. A battle raged on below him; but it wasn't really a battle, more of a slaughter. A horde of at least thirty orcs, four of whom were mounted on giant wolves, had surrounded a band of armored dwarves, of which only seven remained alive.

Angling lower to the ground, Harry dropped some seeds before descending. He hit the ground running, shrinking his broom and stuffing it in his pocket as he drew his sword. Harry collided with the first orc just as it was turning to meet the new threat, severing its head from its body with one well-aimed swipe. The Sword of Gryffindor found its place once more, embedded in the familiar flesh of orcs; Harry had fought many of these monsters when they strayed into the borders of his home, and the sword had become used to cutting through their tough, malformed hides.

More orcs turned towards the wizard, giving the dwarves a chance to recollect themselves and launch their own offensive. Harry grinned savagely as the heavily bearded males let out thunderous battle cries as they raised their weapons against the monsters that had slain their comrades.

Though none of the orcs were particularly strong, their sheer numbers and reckless abandon forced Harry to focus on the battle as he whispered to the weeds on the ground to ensnarl the legs of the wargs and wrap around the feet of his opponents, making their bumbling forms easy targets. Yet this didn't keep him from noticing the numbers shouted out as one of the dwarves counted his kills. It seemed irresponsible, foolish, in bad taste and… fun.

"Four!" Harry joined in as he wounded an orc with a sword through the chest. He used the handle as a lever to flip himself over and onto the dying orc's shoulders, making the axe that was swinging for his back cut into his perch's abdomen, finishing it off. "Whoops."

"Urck." Harry looked over his shoulder after sending a severing charm at the helpful, axe wielding orc's head, slicing it in half ("Six!"). A dwarf was holding off the biggest orc of the pack, one of the last few left, with a splintered sword, straining to stop the wicked blade from slitting his throat. Another was coming up behind the pair, preparing to cut down the dwarf.

"Fall to the right. To the right!" Harry shouted across the field, making eye contact with the doomed dwarf. He gave the wizard a disbelieving look, as surrendering his upright position would surely cost him his life against the orc, but did as his savior said in desperation.

As soon as the dwarf rolled out of the way, vines laced with thorns exploded from the ground and wrapped tightly around the two gray creatures. The orcs howled in pain, sharp needles digging into their mangled flesh and ripping them apart as vines flailed around like the many necks of a hydra. The dwarves all paused to stare in horrified wonder as the last of the orc horde were brutally torn to pieces ("…Seven and…eight…").

Harry himself was surprised at the Howling Climbers' savagery; the seeds were a 60th birthday present from the second oldest Ent, Lowtwig. He had noticed Harry admiring the serpentine plants in the forest and had gifted the seedlings to the wizard for him to raise. The Ent had said they were particularly useful in combat and he had used them today, hoping that they would help in this battle, but the forest vines had always acted so happy and affectionate towards him, so he really hadn't expected …this.

The dwarf Harry had saved finally pulled himself from the gruesome sight‒the vines now appeared to be gnawing on the orcs' bones like a dog with a chew toy (Harry privately found this adorable)‒ and turned his attention to the wizard. After getting up and brushing himself off, the dwarf hesitated for a few moments before stepping forward and extended a hand in gratitude (a hand clad in a heavily armored glove) to Harry.

"Well met, young warrior, and many thanks for your assistance. I am Gimli, son of Glóin, and it is my men you have saved. May I ask your name and where you hail from?"

Harry took the offered hand. "I am Harry, son of, er, James. And I… hail… from the Forest of Fangorn, many miles south of here."

Gimli's eyes widened and he quickly looked back at the moving vines and scanned the ground, seeing the weeds that had held down the wargs long enough for the dwarves to kill them.

"Yes, I know; you are the Forest Spirit. You guide those seeking passage through your forest and watch over them like a divine protector, shielding them from harm. I have heard many grand tales of you from the dwarves traveling from Moria! This is excellent; it's an honor to meet you, only… you're not very hairy, you know?

"Yeah, I got that a lot in school. Also, I am less of a divine anything and more like a handy man or a… padawan. Yeah, I like that… They really were the droids you were looking for, idiots…"

The dwarf gave him an odd look before taking the wizard's arm and leading him towards the rest of the dwarves. The sun was setting and Luna and Hedwig hadn't arrived yet, so Harry joined the party as they set up camp beside a tall, flat rock wall, though he declined use of their tents for height issues that went unspoken ‒no need to offend to dwarves, who apparently never let go of their weapons, even in sleep.

The surviving dwarves gathered around a fire after properly wrapping their dead to bring home for mourning and burial. Harry leaned back on a log, preparing for the tale that Gimli insisted on telling to pass the time and to honor the fallen.

"We were sent by the King under the Mountain, Dáin II Ironfoot, to patrol this area. Orcs have been coming down recently from Mount Gundabad, festering in caves and feeding on our game. Ten of us were sent out to understand the situation, yet we were ambushed by the filth and their dogs and now only seven of us remain." The rest of the dwarves bowed their heads briefly before Gimli continued with his recount. "I was chosen to lead this party since my father, Glóin son of Gróin, is one of the dwarves of Thorin II Oakenshield's company who set out to reclaim Lonely Mountain. He is a hero and I do my best to honor him; I have failed in this, today."

Harry frowned at the ashamed dwarf. "Why do you say that? It seems to me as though you have acted very honorably today; you refused to abandon your men and instead stood and fought despite being outnumbered three to one. The majority of the orcs fell at dwarfish blades and hammers, not to any trickery of my creation. You have demonstrated leadership that would make any father proud."

Gimli's shoulder's rose in pride at Harry's words and at the other dwarves' affirmations. "Well this was nothing like the Battle of Five Armies, but I suppose the victory was hard fought and sound," the dwarf mused to himself.

This caught Harry's attention. "A battle took place? Where?"

As Gimli started on the story of Smaug the Terrible, the destruction of Lake-Town and the resulting epic battle between dwarves, men, elves and orcs for Erebor, Harry felt a sinking feeling as the pieces began to fall together. He had heard all of these names only earlier that day; they were called out among the cries and the sounds of war that had drawn him to this place in the first place. Though rather than being the present cries for help or tiding of future battles that he had thought they were, it seemed as if they were echoes from the past. But why was he hearing them now and in this place? What had changed?

The mystery kept Harry preoccupied in his own mind as the rest of the dwarves sat around the fire, swapping their own stories and legends. Soon the fire began to dwindle and smother, signaling it was time to turn in for the night. Harry found no rest that night as he stared into the glowing embers, accompanied only by Luna and Hedwig, who had both arrived only an hour after the others retired, and a snoozing snake.

Harry departed early the next morning, declining Gimli's offer of food and rest at Erebor with the assurance he would return one day. But for now, he had a new meaning to his quest and a puzzle to figure out. If the land was as overrun by orcs everywhere as much as here, then the towns and villages without an army of battle-hardened dwarves to defend them would need a protector. It was something to do, at least, while searching for answers to his plight; the tale of the three brothers never mentioned anything about hearing voices from the past. Looking down at the seeds of the Howling Climbers, which had retracted and crawled out of the ground into Harry's surprised hand after they were done with the orcs, the wizard couldn't help but wonder if his affinity for nature was connected to the mystery as well.

Riding away on Luna with Hedwig flying above in the sky, Harry never heard the words whispered on the wind that could only be understood by him, yet still sent a shiver down the dwarves' spines as they began to move out from their cleared-out campsite.

"Well, it only makes sense that you would be so in tune with the natural world. After all, what has more power over life then the inevitable death of it, Master?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Authors Note: I promise, Harry's Master of Death title will be explained soon, most likely in the next interlude. I'm not just fooling around anymore; I (kind of) have a plan. Just hold on a little longer…
> 
> Also, if any of you are interested in knowing what I have based the main map of Middle Earth in the Traveler's Guide off of, then check out my profile for the link.


	9. With Only One Path (or A Council of Ninnies the Sequel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by the stupendous KaribookWorm. Any and all mistakes are solely mine.

_Aragorn… Son of Arathorn… heir to the throne of Gondor… Strider is Aragorn, the future King of Gondor. Then according to Death's Prophecy, he needs my help to… Oh, fuck._

The rest of the council remained oblivious to the internal meltdown going on within the, currently frozen, cloaked wizard as their attention turned towards Boromir and Legolas.

"And I suppose the almighty  _King_  thinks it his duty to take the Ring to the mountain himself! I am sure he feels that it is part of his divine right. After all, if he can't carry out such a simple task, then how could he run a great kingdom such as Gondor?"

_A great kingdom? Hmm, that sounds like a lot of pressure for one man. Or for one wizard… No, I can do this; Strider will just need some help, maybe a little protection_ …

"Watch your tongue! You speak with such disrespect; you dishonor your people with your words."

"I dishonor my people? On the contrary, I do them a great service by renouncing this fool's right to rule. He would bring nothing but ruin to Gondor!"

"He is twice the man you could ever be! I would go through the perils of this journey alone, face the armies of orcs, the fires of Mount Doom and even Sauron himself with only my bow if he asked me to! A great man is forged through the connections he makes and the loyalty he evokes in others; I see no one stepping up to your side, Boromir of Gondor."

_Wow, those sure are some perils; are we certain the Ring won't go down with a few well-placed Fiendfyres- it worked on the horocruxes… Armies of orcs, huh? I can do it, I can do it…_

"Now wait one moment!" Gimli stepped in, "I would sooner lay down my axe during battle with a dragon than see an elf carry the Ring! You would probably make off with it in the middle of night like a thief rather than see the quest through, you cowards!"

The shouted insult brought on a round of taunts between the races and another screaming match started in the council.  _Merlin, but these people are barmy. I can hardly ponder my own eventual bloody doom with all of these hissy-fits going on! The elves are the haughty cats, the dwarves are the rowdy dogs, and the Ring is the fresh pile of dung neither desires, but doesn't want the other to have. And the men are just those obnoxious hamsters who invite themselves to the party anyways… I have always wanted a hamster…_

"This petty arguing is doing no good!" Gandalf yelled out as he slammed his staff to the ground. Silence reigned in place of the chaos as everyone turned towards the man, who no longer appeared so old with streams of power radiating off of his body in waves. "We are here for a purpose; someone must be chosen to bear the Ring to Mordor, yet not alone. This journey will require many skilled warriors of all different walks of life- a fellowship of the races of Middle Earth, if you will. The ring-bearer must be one who can resist temptation in all forms, who is content with their life as it is and only seeks to preserve what they already have." The wizard's eyes swept over the crowd, his heavy gaze touching every individual, conveying the weight of the task.

Harry noted the shiver that passed through Frodo's little body beside him at Gandalf's words and absentmindedly cast a heating charm on the hobbit _. Just stay quiet a little longer and then you can go back to the Shire after this. The battlefield is no place for hobbits that don't understand how ineffective cooking equipment is in a fight,_ Harry thought desperately, worried for his small friend.

Several guests adjusted themselves in their seats and a few looked ready to volunteer, but stopped at the last moment, waiting for someone else to speak first. After a few minutes of silence, Elrond began to rise in order to address the council again, when Frodo suddenly shot to his feet exclaiming, "I will do it; I will carry the Ring to Mordor."

Harry stiffened in his seat and barely managed to stop himself from grabbing the hobbit and pulling him down into his lap to protect him. Many of the guests looked surprised or amused, though Elrond seemed to take the offer seriously. Gandalf himself sagged a bit from his rigid position and leaned against his staff as he took a few puffs from his pipe. His face had drawn pale, but the aged wizard managed to keep the frozen look of horror hidden as he realized what he had led the hobbit into.

"Then I will follow you on your quest, my friend, for as long as you need me," Gandalf stated, walking over to place a hand on Frodo's shoulder. He had caused this mess, and he would see it through until the end; either the journey's or his own.

Strider stepped forward and pledged his assistance as well, followed by Legolas promising his bow, and Gimli his axe. Boromir rose and joined the forming group in the center, offering Gondor's help with a pointed look at Strider, asserting the fact that he had held the right to the kingdom's influence, not the Ranger.

Frodo sent a hopeful look at Harry, waiting for him to come and stand by his side. The young wizard wanted to support the hobbit, but it seemed too much like he was signing Frodo's death sentence. Joining the group meant supporting their decision to send the least experienced, most defenseless person in attendance as the central figure on a nearly suicidal mission. After losing every important person in his life to the useless schemes of an insane old man, Harry wasn't willing to watch yet again as his friends were cut down in battle; it was better to stay unattached. But, maybe he could help them, use his experiences and abilities to ensure they made it through safely. Could he handle that responsibility, though…?

As Harry debated joining the group, he failed to notice Frodo's falling face as the young wizard stayed seated, his features that could have given some clue to his thoughts shielded in darkness.

Just then, a rustle of leaves brought attention towards the hobbit that was jumping out from behind the bushes. "Hey now," Sam protested, "I hope you weren't thinking about going anywhere without me, Mr. Frodo."

"Sam!" Frodo's face only brightened further when the other two hobbits emerged from behind the pillars beyond Elrond's chair. "Pippin and Merry, what are you doing here?"

"Well, we are here to join you on your great big adventure, of course!" Pippin replied with a grin.

"Yep," Merry carried on, "You can't separate these hobbits for anything!"

"Indeed," Elrond commented, "not even during a secret council, to which I believe only one of you were invited." Despite his words, the elf seemed happy with the outcome and stood up. "The Fellowship of the Ring has been formed; as there were nine rings created, so there will be nine members to combat the evil threatening this realm and bring the One Ring to its end."

The rest of the council clapped at the announcement and laughed at Pippin's question of where they were going. Harry, meanwhile, gripped the bottom of his seat tightly as he fought down the urge to be ill. Nine people, four of which were not even warriors, but bloody hobbits, were being sent to protect and destroy the item that could spell the end of the world?  _Really?_  When Elrond had said they were choosing someone to take the Ring, he thought that person would be at the head of an army, not in the middle of a small band of squabbling men. And the rest of these ninnies were just going to let them go alone! Was he the only one who saw the flaw in this plan?

Frodo looked up from his fellow hobbits and the crowd of people congratulating him, only to spot Harry as the wizard turned his back and left the council through the trees, his cloak billowing in his wake.

~ Five Hours Later ~

A feast was held in the grand hall as a celebration of the council's conclusion being reached with a party chosen to leave the day after the next, and no blood having been spilt. The elves dined on fruits and vegetables, the hobbits gathered around Bilbo to hear Frodo's uncle spin tales of adventure, and the dwarves picked out a nicely lit corner to get ragingly drunk in.

Only a dark haired hobbit and a solitary Ranger noticed the continued absence of the young cloaked wizard from the festivities. However, these worries were soon lost during the merrymaking as dwarfish songs were sung at obscene volumes, and elegant elfish dancers took to the floors. After the good times were had, the majority retired to their quarters for the evening, while those less than sober settled in on the grass and passed out with smiles on their faces.

Meanwhile, a sleepless night plagued Harry within nature's wall as he lay hidden in his alcove, and when the void finally did take him it was anything but restful. The skies of this new land, once so much brighter than that of his old world, were filled with fire. Ash rained down onto the bloody, browned pastures littered with bodies. The sickeningly familiar voice of Death murmured casualty rates and the random names of families that were left without a father, a brother, a son. Villages burned and entire cities were annihilated in single blasts. All of the lands of Arda suffered, not only Middle Earth; darkness spread to every corner of the globe, leaving a trail of desolation. Harry was forced to watch a much slower, precise destruction than his world had faced as the many races turned on each other- their futile attempts at stopping the Dark Lord Sauron, who had succeeded in obtaining the Ring, being abandoned for an all-out bid to survive.

He silently woke to the peaceful atmosphere of his hideaway. If there was one thing he had learned during the hunt for horcruxes, it was to never scream aloud after a nightmare.

Hedwig, who had finally caught up to her friend, slept on, perched atop Luna's broad back. An undercover rescue mission had taken place earlier that week to locate and retrieve the horse, and it had gone off without a hitch (beyond alerting the elfish guards and having to enact a quick getaway involving an “accidental” bleeding boil curse and nine feet of knotted red silk scarves).

Manny was jarred form sleep at the slight change in breathing that signaled Harry's return to consciousness. He was used to the wizard's nightmares and following need of movement from the many years they had spent together, so the snake drowsily slithered from his place on Harry's stomach and loosely wrapped around his shoulders, preparing for the usual routine. The wizard arose from the stone bench and left his sanctuary once Manny was settled, comforted by the familiar weight.

Wandering through the cold halls with only the hushed, distant chatter of others who were up during the night allowed Harry to focus on organizing his thoughts. What he had seen was obviously not just a dream; the events were too specific and he could still remember every detail with vivid clarity. Yet, if it was a vision sent by Mandos like he suspected, then what was the message? Could his help prevent this world's grim future, or was it a warning to cut his losses and high-tail it to a nice, secluded hermit-cave? _Can I really get involved now that I know how this quest could end? But, how can I leave when I know how this quest could end?!_

A ruffling noise drew Harry's attention back to the present. As he looked up, he caught sight of Arwen as she made her way onto a balcony, just before she went out of view. Figuring it was a good time as any to have an uncomfortable but necessary conversation, Harry followed the elf. And then promptly turned back around and bolted in the opposite direction.

There were certain things a man just didn't need to see during a state of crisis; Strider and the evil she-elf making goo-goo eyes at each other under the starlight took residence at the top of the list.

Harry soon found himself entering the area where the council had been held earlier that day, or yesterday- he hadn't bothered to check the time. The chairs all stood abandoned and the air was still and calm; it seemed an unfitting fate for the space that had hosted such an influential, heated debate only a number of hours before. Yet, the place was not vacant; the grey wizard who had played such a critical role in the decision stood in front of the pedestal, a hand placed on the spot that the Ring had occupied during the council.

With soft feet, Harry moved to the other side of the stone column and rested his elbows on the edge before placing his chin on his linked knuckles. "Come here often, then? I heard this is a hot spot for those with a penchant for big sticks and pointed hats."

Gandalf sent a meaningful look to Harry's hooded, hatless head before responding. "I don't suppose that is really what you want to ask. While I applaud you for the effort, I would request you speak candidly to me tonight- I hold no desire for banter when so many fears weigh on my mind. State plainly your thoughts and I will hold off my questions regarding the impossibility of your existence."

"Then it is my true thoughts you will hear this night," Harry amended, before straightening fully and laying his palms flat on the hard surface. "Why do you support the decision to send Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry to their deaths? You can't tell me that you believe the few true warriors going on this quest will be adequate protection; one does not live as long as you and remain a naive fool. The hobbits will die."

The wizard seemed to age decades at Harry's words and a grim look entered his eyes. "You are sorely mistaken, black wizard, if you think I wish this fate for young Frodo and the others. Hobbits are sturdy creatures and by far some of the most remarkable beings I have ever met, but the Ring has broken kings and turned them into mere puppets."

"Then why did you allow this burden to be placed on his shoulders? Frodo has already nearly died whilst carrying the Ring, and he has only had it for less than a week! It is a curse, a fragment of a soul belonging to a powerful madman. Devastation and death lie in wait for those who try to get in between an ultimate weapon and its master. Yet, that evidently isn't a concern here, as you all want to bring the Ring right to the halls of Sauron himself. I can't be the only one who thinks that this is a bad idea."

Gandalf frowned as he looked into the darkness of Harry's face hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak. "You speak as though you know something the rest of us don't."

Harry raised his hands and pulled back his hood, revealing the haunted green eyes that bored into Gandalf's, forcing him to see the pain Harry had experienced. "We have both seen the havoc such weapons create in different forms, yet you still take such risks. The last war this land faced caused so much death, but the enemy was eventually defeated and peace returned. None of you can know what it is like for the end of a war to come only when all those involved are dead; the magic that is so abundant here would leave the air and any life left would slowly wither away. No solace would be found, not even in your revered Undying Lands."

"I am well aware of what is at stake here, but Frodo must be the one to take the Ring!" Gandalf bellowed, sending Harry one of the looks he had used to quell the men during the council. The younger wizard stared back stoically, already hardened by the many years he spent in Professor Snape's class under the dark man's glare. "I have thought about it deeply and I can think of no one more suited to the task- no one with a better chance of being able to block out the Ring's whispers. With the support of his friend and powerful allies by his side, I believe young Frodo can accomplish his task. The question presented here is, if in the short time you have known him- even if you haven't come to trust his character- have you at least grown to care about Frodo and the others enough to try and help them in this quest which they have nobly chosen to undertake?"

The temperature dropped a few degrees as the two wizards stared each other down over the cracked pedestal. Finally, Harry answered the elder's loaded question.

"Yes."

Gandalf blinked. And waited. And then blinked again. "Oh, well, I guess I am happy you feel that way. But, do you need more time to think things over; this is quite a serious responsibility for one so young."

"No." An extended silence occurred as Gandalf waited for an elaboration that wasn't forthcoming.

"Hmmm. Final decision?"

"Yes."

"No extra comments?"

"Are you compensating for something with that staff? It seems a little overkill to me."

"…. No."

"Ah."

"…. Do you really not like it? It took me decades to create."

"It is pretty, I guess."

“Her name is Tiesa. She is strong, sturdy- probably older than you, in case you were wondering."

"Perhaps. My wand was said to be created by Death and is basically unbeatable, but whatever."

"…. I see."

The pauses were no longer strained with the burden of unspoken issues, but instead the atmosphere was lighter since they had been brought out and discussed. The only tension now was created by the wizards' attempts to out-wizard the other, though it went as an unspoken rule that neither was allowed to crack a smile until one had left; appearances needed to be upheld, after all.

Three minutes later Harry removed his hands from the stone, gave Gandalf a stiff nod, which was similarly returned, and left the circle with dignity and grace. Moments later the sound of roaring laughter echoed off of the marble walls, disturbing many elves cursed with sensitive hearing; as if the ricocheting snores of the dwarves weren't bad enough.

As he walked along the path, a content smile found its way onto Harry's face. For the first time since he had left his hut in the forest, Harry felt secure in his purpose: no matter the outcome, he would do his best to see that the hobbits returned from their quest alive and the Ring was destroyed for good. He had failed in his duty to protect his own world; he wouldn't allow his new home to burn.

"It is not polite to intrude on private moments; a certain degree of respect is expected from guests, no matter how unwelcome they are." Well, that was one way to kill a perfectly good moment of self-worth and realization.

Harry closed his eyes and took a moment to collect himself before turning around and facing Arwen. The elf looked the same as she had when he had seen her less than an hour before, though now there was a sad, yet satisfied look in her eye, as if she too had come to a final conviction that night.

"It was neither my intent to spy on you, nor a crime I am guilty of in the first place. I was just passing through. Although, you do seem different- happy, as hard as it is for me to believe you are capable of such an emotion." An expression flashed across Arwen's features before she could school her countenance. It was too late though; Harry had seen that same look on Molly and Arthur Weasley's faces when they stared at each other too many times not to recognize it. "It is love: you are in love with Strider. And I take it he returns the sentiment?"

The elf narrowed her eyes at the wizard and tilted her chin back, averting her eyes, "Such things are of no concern to you; you have no place in either of our lives."

"What exactly is your problem with me?" Harry hissed. Arwen's gaze snapped back to him at the enraged tone. "I have done nothing but try and be of help to you and the others, yet you treat me like I have done you a personal disservice. I couldn't care less about what you think of me, but I will be spending much time with Strider over the next few months and I would prefer if your opinion wouldn't color his and my interactions. If you are so intent on this hatred, then at least allow me knowledge of its origin."

Arwen's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "You have decided to join the quest then?"

"Indeed. I plan on telling the others later today; I need time to prepare beforehand. But don't try to change the subject."

Walking over to the ledge, Arwen looked out at the spectacular view as she took a moment to articulate her thoughts. "It is nothing you have done, but it is the … feeling I get from you. It is foreign and dark in nature; it is embedded into your very being. Though, it seems to have lessened some now that you are away from the Black Riders…"  
Well, yes, being the vessel of a horocrux for sixteen years and claiming the title Master of Death probably didn't make his aura very happy-go-lucky, but still… A feeling?  _Really? That's it?_

"That is what you have decided to use as verification of my character? You ignore the trust your father and partner have placed in me in favor of a fading suspicion? I'm not buying it."

Arwen cleared her throat and continued to look away from Harry. "It seems a bit foolish when said aloud, but the doubt remains solid in my heart."

Signing, Harry walked towards the elf and stood silent until she turned towards him. "I am truly sorry that you feel this way, as it appears there is nothing I can do to change your mind. I do not ask you to trust me, but instead to abandon this notion that you already know me and make your own judgment in time." The two stood facing one another as Arwen considered the request. Eventually she nodded.

"I have chosen to live a mortal life with Estel," Arwen suddenly said. "That is why I appeared joyful. It is a decision that has long troubled me and I am glad to have finally accepted love as my reason to be."

"Mazel tov." He got a confused look in response. "I mean congratulations and good luck. With, you know, that mortal life and …stuff." Harry wasn't sure what to say, now that they no longer inexplicably hated each other, so he settled for an awkward bumbling comment.

"Thank you." And there was really nothing more to say.

As he left his second confrontation in an hour, Harry was more than ready to call it a night. Therefore, he wasn't too thrilled when he saw Pippin and Merry coming up the path towards him with their arms swung around the other's shoulders, singing drinking songs and nursing wrapped bottles in their hands.

"Nope; I am not doing this again tonight." Without a hint of shame, Harry dove into the bushes lining the walkway and traveled the scenic route back to his hideaway.

~ The Morning the Fellowship Departs ~

Harry had spent the day before traveling back to the Forest of Fangorn to inform Radagast and the Ents of his decision to join the Fellowship, as well as to drop Luna off at the hut; the quest would be very dangerous and the horse wasn't nearly as durable as Hedwig and Manny. The snake could travel on Harry and was armed with venomous fangs, while the owl could fly everywhere and had the advantage of sharp talons; Luna would be halted at the first natural obstacle and couldn't defend herself as easily.

It was a bit awkward when he arrive in the middle of a civil war between the brown wizard and the tree people, who were fighting over the hut's "virtue" (the wizard kept insisting something was going on between her and Lowtwig and the Ents just seemed entertained by his actions and kept egging him on). After subduing Radagast, Harry had put out the minor fires that littered the forest floor and sat them all down to discuss his plans.

His trip had lasted longer than expected, as Radagast insisted on Harry hosting a couples counseling session to work out his marital issues, so he didn't arrive back to Rivendell until late the night before the Fellowship was to leave, but overall the trip was a success. Treebeard was satisfied that Harry had found his purpose, and Radagast promised to watch over Luna.

It wasn't until the morning when the group was preparing to set out that Harry finally managed to find Frodo. The members of the Fellowship stood at the gate as Elrond gave his heartfelt farewell speech. Harry glided pass the enraptured audience and went to lean against one of the pillars at the exit, ignoring the pointed look he was receiving from the grey wizard, who was the only one to spot him yet.

When Gandalf called for the ring bearer, Frodo turned around to lead the party out of the elven city and finally saw the young wizard.

"Harry!" the hobbit yelled out in excitement. He ran towards the wizard, only to stop as he remembered why he was probably there. "Have you come to… to say goodbye?"

"Actually," Harry stated professionally, "I was wondering if you had an extra opening in your merry band; if so, I be honored to accompany you."

Frodo grinned. "Of course!"

Elrond, however, seemed hesitant to accept this sudden change. "You are planning to join the Fellowship? Then, the participants would equal ten, rather than nine."

"Well, then just consider me an…. independent wizarding consulting associate hired for convenience. Really, you can pay me and everything- in fact I insist; I don't have any money." Everyone (rudely) disregarded his (completely serious) request and Elrond, though still uneasy, raised no more objections.

"This is awesome!" Pippin claimed, "Now there is another to balance out the complete lack of humor this gang is inflicted with. We can tell stories and set up pranks during the nights- none of you heard that- and you can show us magic tricks- I didn't know you were a wizard; where's your staff- and… Harry, what is that around your neck?"

Looking down, Harry saw that Manny had finally decided to make an appearance, most likely under the impression that they were still with the Ents, and was lazily circling his shoulders. < **Mmm, must have dozed off there. Did the trees make peace, and have Radagast and Miss Shelter Provider worked things out? Oh, who are these guys- whoops. >**

"That would be my snake; his name is Manny and he likes to enjoy warm rocks on a summer's evening."

"Oh, ok… nothing wrong with that I guess."

The rest of the Fellowship sighed and walked out of the gate to begin their adventure, deciding it was best to ignore the two for now.

First Person POV- Unidentified Viewpoint

Oh, but the headaches you have caused me; not even the first three who dared to defy me inspired so many late nights. I have places to be and there is paper work to be done, yet you prove a great distraction without even being aware of it.

I throw you a bone, and you do your very best to spite me at every turn. You think, _well, if he says I will play a critical role in the crowning of kings, then I obviously must hide in a forest for a decade! Oh, he brought me my most beloved pet back after I let her die for me? I know; I will just mock him and name my other slimy companion a butchered form of his esteemed title!_ So ungrateful… But it is ok; you kept yourself safe and out of the way, using humor as a coping mechanism.

Yet, the moment I really try to help you, try to save you the pain of which Fate has so completely failed at shielding you, her  _precious_  chosen one, from, you decide that you have grown wings and can fly above my advice. I showed you the ruin this realm will face, the suffering of a slow destruction which will eventually only leave an empty husk, the suffering that your own kind was lucky enough to avoid- it was all over in one bang for them- and you proceed to run in anyway, eager to embrace this pain like a long lost brother.

Rest assured my master; if you enjoyed what I grew to be in your world, then you are going too absolutely adore me here. Blood will be shed and fire will rain down upon the hopes of all; it is only your end that eludes me, while all of the others present themselves clear before my eyes. You are now destined to at least feel the burn due to your choices, but I can't see if you have the strength to put out the flames permanently. As I have grown to hold a, very reluctant, fondness for you, I do hope you are more successful in this endeavor than the last one you undertook. I would hate to have to stage another relocation for you…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a fairly un-cliffhangery ending for me. I usually try to make the chapters stop at a fairly intense time so that it motivates me to write the next update quickly, but this just felt right.
> 
> Also, do you guys want to officially meet Mandos? Then stay tuned for the next update (it will be an interlude again)! Spoiler: he is nothing like Manny.


	10. Interlude: Harry’s Adventures- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude for you all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a slight divergence from Tolkien’s reality. History that never happened in canon is discussed, but it happened in this story. Enjoy. 
> 
> Betaed by the amazing Noradin

In a Quiet Village I Spoke with Death

 _Thud, clank, clank, thud, thu- squish._ Harry’s groan of disgust was overshadowed by the gurgling gasps of the last orc as it fell over dead, most of its nearly black life’s blood spilling out from the gash in its neck onto the wizard’s head. While the packs of the beasts he had encountered weren’t too hard to dispatch, the business of killing orcs was a messy one and without a nearby residence there was no way to easily clean himself. The surrounding villages had become wary with the increasing number of roadside attacks by the orcs and a suspicious stranger so obviously covered in blood wouldn’t be welcomed, so renting a room and bath was out of the question. 

Pulling his sword from the orc’s corpse, Harry looked around the area and sighed. The group had ambushed him when he stopped a little ways from the road for a lunch break and to allow Luna a rest and a chance to graze. She was far enough away and had so many protection and notice-me-not wards on her that the orcs completely overlooked the horse and only went for the lone, seemingly defenseless man. Now the seven disfigured bodies lay strewed across the ground, guts and entrails and other such parts Harry really didn’t want to think about painting the grass dark. All in clear view of the major road, which was blessedly deserted at the moment, but wouldn’t stay so for long.

Harry banished the bodies with a flick of his wand and walked over to where Luna was still peacefully chewing on a patch of grass, completely unconcerned by the brutal fight that had taken place not even fifty meters in front of her and the blood-drenched man currently patting her mane. _Is this level of calm and indifference normal for a horse? No, no it probably isn’t._

 With one final pat and a cooed “Good girl, such a wonderfully, fantastically placid good girl you are”, the wizard began to lead his horse towards the woods, following the breeze that kindly offered to lead him to the nearest lake. His Invisibility Cloak was a great help when he needed to disappear in a pinch and was adequate at concealing Manny, but it had an often useful and sometimes annoying resistance to magic as a whole. It would need cleaning by hand or give him away by smell the next time he used it.

 Hedwig was already perched on a low hanging branch over the tranquil body of water, using her wings and beak to clean away the dirt that had collected in her feathers over the past few days. The owl spared a single short squawk for Harry when he approached the bank, but remained focused on her task.

“So,” Harry began, “you didn’t feel like helping me with those orcs, huh?” Not even a twitch in response. “Some aerial support would have come in handy; one of them almost got me from behind. It’s a good thing Manny was there.” Only the ruffling sound of feather grooming permeated the silence. Well, if she wanted to be juvenile, then two could play that game. Facing away from his owl, Harry stated, “I see, you didn’t interfere because you knew that I had it all under control. With my amazing sword skills and spectacular magical gifts, you really would have just gotten in the way, after all. You are so considerate, Hedwig, a true lady of the highest cla- Ahhhh! Oh Merlin, please: not the face!”

Several minutes later Hedwig had returned to her first-class spot to continue preening while Harry sank into the water to wash the dark stains from his cloak and attend to his newly received battle wounds, leaving Manny to recline in the midday sun. Warriors come in all shapes and sizes, from hulking mountains of muscle to terrifying tiny white bullets with talons and hooked jaws of death. Harry really needed some human companionship.

After finishing his impromptu bath, Harry left the water and joined his friends in their relaxation, spreading out on the soft dirt. He felt in no rush whatsoever and wasn’t too keen on returning to his aimless wandering from town to town.

It had only been a week since Harry had left the Lonely Mountain to begin traveling west and already he could feel his resolve crumbling. Many smaller towns had cleared out and the inhabitants immigrated to large, well-defended cities that welcomed the increase in population as it brought skilled craftsmen and workers, helping industry. The race of men was not nearly as powerless as Harry had first thought; they were all banding together and presenting a strong front against the rising orc threat. Overall the camaraderie was just as heartening as it was surprising, but also left Harry once more without a motivation. His original goal to protect the undefended towns was fairly pointless now that the men were taking care of their own. So far he had only taken out a few stray bands of orcs that had tried to attack him personally; what was to be his purpose now? 

Eventually the tranquility grew boring. Harry arose and led his party back to the road, counting on the blazing sun to finish drying his clothing out. Now that the afternoon had rolled around, many more merchants and travelers bustled along the trodden paths, energized by their meals and eager to arrive at their destinations.

~ Three Hours beneath the Beating Sun Later ~

_Hmm, the red-bearded man with the oxen-pulled cart is headed east to visit his widowed sister, likely to help take care of the coming child whose father met a poorly timed end. Oh, wait; he is just trying to mooch some money from his happily married cousin. Drat, I should have known from that creepy, tortured mustache/goatee hybrid and the green gleam in his eyes. Moving on; that group of dwarves is going to meet their kin in Erebor, probably intending to drink their family’s cellars dry and make eyes at the busty barmaid who they don’t know has aged physically quite a bit since last they met. Heh, yeah; spot on. Great, I’m 4.75 out of 9._

Being on the road for so long was an exercise in patience for the wizard; he couldn’t risk speaking with Manny around so many others, though the snake had no qualms about baiting Harry with obnoxious remarks, and no one seemed eager to chat with the stranger riding a horse with an owl perched on his shoulder. To keep from giving into the darker suggestions for entertainment whispered into his ear by Manny, Harry spent the drawn-out hours making up stories about the people rushing past him and then using legilimency to skim the outer edges of their thoughts to see how close his guesses were. However, even this game was getting old fast.

 **< Fine, if you really think setting a few temptingly placed hay barrels on fire** **‒** **and really, the owners are just asking for it with that mockingly smiling fish on the back bar; all marine species are incapable of emotions beyond hatred and hunger** **‒** **is “not a polite course of action” and charming a few palms onto furtherly temptingly placed rears is “simply inappropriate to an unimaginable degree”, then the least you could do is stop in a communal man-crafted tree-gathering and demand one of those already prepared nesting-hole for us. If we camp outside again and that rabies-infested, roadkill-colored bird “accidentally” tries to pick me up for a midnight snack when I sleep-slither around one more time, the fangs will be unsheathed. And I mean it this time. It’s for the reals, my little tax deduction. >**

Oh Merlin, but that last line warranted a response. Shielding his mouth as if covering a cough, Harry asked **< Your little _what_? >**

**< I have decided to promote you from petty human minion for good behavior, and based on your stories I take it that taxes are evil manipulation tactics used by the *glove-earning-mint to control the masses and deductions are forces of good that give the underdogs a fighting chance. Thus, I dub you tax deduction!> **

** <… I have never been prouder; your grasp on 20th century Populist logic is flawless, Manny.>**

  **< Yeah, I know it.> **

Deciding to ignore everything besides Manny’s surprisingly reasonable request, Harry dug around for the Traveler’s Guide and located the nearest town with a reportedly adequate Inn: a place that had once been known as **Framsburg, the capital of Éothéod, but was since reduced to a quiet, possibly abandoned village. It was inhabited solely by men and was isolated enough from the major regions being terrorized by orcs that folks hopefully wouldn’t be so unwelcoming to travelers.

After enduring another few hours of nervously averted eyes and hissed criticisms that tested his capacity for forgiveness and pushed the weight on which his sanity resided to the edge before a deep abyss of homicidal rage, Harry finally spotted a large stone structure ahead in the fading light. A whispered sight-enhancing charm revealed the words _Framsburg: Prosperous City of the North. Population-_ _ ~~3~~_ _0 ~~,000~~ ~~25,000~~ ~~14,349~~ ~~900~~_ _~~560~~_ _CURSED_ carved into a rotting wooden sign fixed to the eroding wall of the abandoned guard post next to the upcoming split in the road.

 It didn’t fail to catch Harry’s notice that no other traveler had followed the route towards Framsburg; every cart and horse had been turned away from the cracked stone path that diverged from the main road to lead to the ancient city. Mothers held their infants closer to their bosoms and clutched small children to the folds of their skirts when passing the arrow indicating it was only _fifteen more miles to Framsburg this way_. Men ghosted their hands over prominently displayed weapons and spat on the constantly damp patch of earth where the path first broke away.

None of this particularly bothered the wizard, though the missionary who crossed himself upon spotting Harry leading Luna down the foreboding path and the five babes that simultaneously broke into sobs were rather disturbing.

 **< You know Manny, if you could wait until tomorrow, I am sure I could find another really nice->** 

< **No. One more word and I am not above revoking your advancement up the ranks. Do you want to be a sunbathing-cream-for-scales plantation serf? Huh? Thought not. >**

**< … Bu-… hmm.>**

And so Harry found himself approaching the gloomy town with only the soft thuds of Luna’s hooves and Hedwig’s softly ruffled breathing for company. Despite its appearance, the ivy-infested metal front gate inspired no unease within the wizard, and he found himself almost eager to see what lay behind the walls that brought out such hateful reactions in the passing people. Patting Luna’s side to bring her to a halt, Harry slid to the ground and walked up to the gate’s smaller door made to allow in those who weren’t traveling with carts. The eye-level viewing slot didn’t slide open to reveal the assessing gaze of a gatekeeper like it should have, and after a couple of minutes waiting it became apparent that nobody was coming to admit the guests in. After allowing Manny the honor of knocking with his tail first, Harry raised a fist and banged on the door twice.

With a low groan accompanied by a few high-pitched squeaks, the entire front gate snapped off of its hinges and fell solidly inwards onto the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

**< Nice going; thirty seconds in and you’ve already broken their front door. Do you still think they will let us take shelter here? Maybe? Just me, at least?>**

The outskirts of the town were completely abandoned. Charcoaled shells of once towering buildings stood in skeletal ruin along the blackened streets. Bats with beady eyes stared at Harry upside down from the exposed rafters as he led Luna down the deserted main street. The town seemed completely devoid of human existence, shades of gray and black taking over where any colors of life might have been once. 

Just about ready to break the news about their likely sleeping arrangements to Manny, a glow in the distance stilled Harry’s tongue. The dancing light of flickering fire played across the contours of one of the buildings farther down the street and the sound of childish laughter began to gradually grow louder as the wizard trekked farther into the town. At the end of the road, Harry turned the corner and promptly froze in surprise.

Before him laid what must have been the town square. Homes with drying laundry hanging on the railings were arranged in a circle around a wide wood construction working as a stage and an inactive bonfire pit. People were scattered in groups around the open space, chatting and enjoying each other’s company while small children ran around playing games. Torches were lit and mounted throughout the area, shedding a pleasant light that complimented the compatible ambience. Overall, the sight was… unexpected, to say the least, but ignited a warmth that spread through his system. It had been a long time since he had seen a group of people so content.

 **< Oh, a party. Aww, did you call ahead and set this up for me? You’re so sweet taxy.>**  

After another minute of gawking, Harry dismounted from Luna and strolled with her reigns in hand into the gathering. Conversations came to a halt as he walked by, starting up again  in hushed whispers only once he passed, and the children paused to stare at Harry as though they had never seen an unknown face before. The townsfolk seemed unsure of him, but no one stopped him as he made his way to the establishment marked _Framsburg’s Finest: Pub and Inn._ Loosely tethering Luna to a post, Harry went inside.

The same warm mood filled the room; a dozen people populated the bar and surrounding tables and friendly murmurs filled the air. Harry was given the same surprised silent treatment by the patrons, but once more no one rose to intercept him as he took a seat at the bar.

“A glass of water, if you would be so kind,” Harry asked the still bartender, setting his bag of coins on the counter. “I intend to order more later.”

 With a nod, the man continued to wipe down the mug in his hands then went to pour a glass from the pitcher. Discussion once more picked up as Harry continued to make no hostile moves, but the wizard could still feel several sets of eyes on the back of his head as he waited for his drink.

 **< I hope you’re happy, Manny,> **Harry hissed lowly. **< We are in the creepy town, I am about to buy us a room for the night, and you no longer have to fear annihilation by digestion. But we are gone in the morning. It’s disturbing how un-freaked out this place is making me; the shivers that crawl up one’s spine are our friends. They warn us when danger is near and their complete absence is more frightening than their presence would be. In a near ghost-town with only a burning nucleus, the nerves should be alert and active.>**

**< Hey, no need to be lonely. If you want, I could slither up your spine a few times if it would make you feel better. How about it?>**

****< … Never mind; I feel perfectly fine.>** **

Harry looked up to see if his drink was ready as a way to try and change the subject from the worrying turn it had taken, only to find the bartender unmoving with his hand on the handle of the pitcher where it had been a minute earlier. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry observed the men on either side of the bar from him and saw them frozen as well. The brew inside one of the customer’s tipping mugs had even gone motionless; a droplet hung halfway down the side, stopped in its track.

**< Manny, are you okay?>**

**< Hmm? I’d be happier if we would go outside and join the fiesta, but in general I’m a content Ruler of All, as always.> ** 

**< And can you sense Hedwig?>**

**< Yeah, yeah, she is flapping around outside like usual. I am still righteously pissed about you binding us together, you know. It will make it so much more awkward when we have our inevitable final battle to the bloody end.> **

A slight breeze blew through Harry’s hair and the feeling of abrupt displacement warned him that something had just taken residence in the vacant seat directly beside him. The firelight dimmed, heightening the shadows around the room, and his breath came out in a visible cloud, though the air grew no colder. Intertwining his fingers and setting his elbows on the surface in front of him, Harry pointedly kept his gaze straight ahead on the line of bottle set across the wall.

“It would have been nice if you had showed up a few minutes later; I really am quite parched.” A clear, liter-sized glass of water swooshed into existence next to Harry’s elbow on the counter, a miniature pink umbrella floating around the brim. “Cute.”

“I really can be when I try, can’t I?” a smooth, low pitched, yet obviously female voice relied from his right. Keeping his face carefully blank, Harry turned his head to study the figure beside him. A spectacled woman that appeared to be of Asian descent wearing a pressed red dress-like garment sat next to him, nursing a Bud Light. The picture was so very out of place from the past ten years he had spent in Middle Earth that it took him a moment to realize that this appearance could have some sort of deeper meaning.

“Give me a minute.” The woman took a sip from her beer as Harry examined her closely. Soon he gave up. “Nope, I really don’t get this. I understand that you’re Death and have infinite power and what not, but this display isn’t ringing any bells. Is it supposed to be the start of some awful beer commercial?”

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Infinite power? You flatter me. Do I really not look familiar?” She received a blank stare. “The trial before your sixth year at the Ministry of Magic?” No recognition sparked. “Fine; how about this one?” The air around her briefly shimmered and then sitting next to him was Sirius Black.    

Harry rose from his seat, knocking the stool over in his haste, and pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from his sheath, pointing it at the fake version of his godfather. “Yes, all right; you can be anywhere at any time wearing any face. That’s all very fine and scary, but would you kindly remove my godfather’s likeliness from your person? That is a line I would like us not to cross, agreed _Mandos_? I haven’t a clue if you can take damage, but I wouldn’t be opposed to some experimenting.”

The shaggy-haired man gave a mocking grin before morphing into a different body. “Agreed.” The suited older gentleman raised his beverage, a glass goblet containing red wine, in salute and took another sip. 

Taking a seat once more, Harry sat with his legs spread and hands rested on the space between his thighs, leaning towards Mandos. “So, I would love to know why, after ten years of silence, you decide to show up in a random bar in some forsaken town. Finally got bored with the orc slaughters that are so popular these days?”

“Oh, on the contrary, my Master,” the man challenged, setting his glass down, “I believe this is the perfect backdrop for our long-overdue meeting. Tell me, do you know any of Framsburg’s _riveting_ history?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. History lessons haven’t been at the top of my list lately.”

“That’s a pity; I find this town to be a rather spot-on representation of your acquired position.”

This caught Harry’s attention. The question of what exactly the title “Master of Death” entailed had always eluded him. How could one achieve mastery over a universal fact of life, and what did it even mean to have conquered Death? A chance to have his questions answered was not one he could, or would, pass up.

“You see, this was once a wondrous city, the capital of an entire region and the apple of the North’s eye. The advancements in weaponry made here were legendary and Framsburg came to represent the might of mankind in Middle Earth. Then Sauron rose to power. Monstrous beings from all corners of the lands came running to his call for an army. The orcs of Mount Gundabad rained down from their caves and passed through Framsburg on their way. They tore through the streets, burning and pillaging at their leisure. Outgunned by the sheer number of orcs, the leader of the city did something condemned as unforgivable by the rest of the North; he called a retreat. The civilians were led out of the city and any surviving fighters were ordered only to save what they could from the city and to avoid engaging in combat unless in defense. The great Framsburg fell at no one’s hands; there was no planned attack, only an unfortunate turn of Luck that some orc decided to take that route south. She always was a bit of a bitch like that.”

“This city, once filled to the brink with traders and travelers from all over, was thrown carelessly into exile by the King of Éothéod, its status as the capital revoked. Outsiders believe the population to be wiped out, thinking it justice for their cowardice. Yet, this couldn’t be farther from the truth. The people here have thrived, banding together and condensing themselves into the very center of this vast city. They formed a small, community-based village in the wake of the tragedy, and have found happiness in anonymity. Though not unwelcoming of strangers, as you must have noticed, they keep to themselves and are better off for it. They aren’t unlike cockroaches, really; a metaphor I find fitting for all of humanity and its reluctance to die out, but I digress.”

“Yes, and this applies to me how, precisely?” Harry demanded. While it was an enthralling story, he was far more interested in gaining answers rather than being entertained.

Mandos sighed disappointedly. “So much time, yet still so impatient. Very well. You saw the way other wanderers reacted to the road leading to Framsburg, yet you continued on your way.”

“Manny was rather testy, so I-”

“Please, don’t pretend that soggy twig can control your actions. You felt comfortable traveling here, maybe even a kinship with the city once you saw it. Why do you believe that is?”

“I don’t know; I loved Hogwarts as soon as I caught sight of the castle and it had the same spooky, old-ruins vibe to it as well. And I thought we moved past the part where you think you have the right to disrespect my friends and family,” Harry grounded out, playing his fingers around the hilt of his still drawn sword that rested across his knee, pointing at Mandos.

Waving away the threat, the deity continued. “Those feelings came from the respect you felt for the pure drive to not only _survive,_ but to _thrive._ You yourself are the sole survivor of an entire world, and you escaped the ruins of the old to come make a fresh start here. As the Master of Death, you are the one person who has grown to both understand death and welcome me with open arms, unconditionally. It is your duty to seek out tragedy and assist those who can’t accept death and are willing to fight for their lives. Tell me, do you really believe it a coincidence that you arrived on the brink of a war threatening to plummet the entirety of this land into chaos?”

Something that had been plaguing Harry for weeks finally clicked, causing a shard of guilt to form in his gut. “The voices I heard near Erebor; they were from those trying to survive the destruction of Dale and the Battle of Five Armies‒and failing. People I could have helped.” _I wasn’t here yet, there is nothing I could have done. It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault, not my fault…_ “But, I have walked across a battlefield before; hell, I was the central figure in a bloody world-ending war. Why am I only starting to hear these voices now?”

Mandos smiled and clapped his hands, startling Harry as a mug of beer fell and shattered on the floor. Curses rose from a table in the back and the rest of the patrons in the bar laughed at the unfortunate dripping man that had been standing too close to the accident.  

“Now you are finally beginning to ask the right questions.” With that little bit of wisdom jammed down Harry’s throat, Mandos vanished just as he had arrived, leaving an annoyed and confused wizard and an annoyingly confused Manny.

**< What did the man-lady say about me? I know I heard my name; is he joining the winning side in the reptile vs. avian war?>**

**< … Let’s just get a room; I need alcohol and sleep tonight.> **“Make that water a beer, please.”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want an image of Mandos’s main persona, google the horseman Death from Supernatural. 
> 
> * Manny-speech for government
> 
> **this is a Tolkien-created “real” city of Middle Earth. Most (if not all) of the history explained is non-canon, though


	11. Wizards Don't Belong Underground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by KaribookWorm (who, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, is astounding)

"Sword up, down, left- good, you've made an opening, now go in for the kill."

"Like this?"

"No! You can't poke your enemy as though you're trying to grab their attention! You need a quick, decisive blow that will finish off your opponent, either through death or debilitation. Again!"

Pippin groaned as the dagger-sized weapon fell from his exhausted hands, hitting the dry dirt. "Harry! Please, come rescue us from this slave-driving tyrant and spirt us away to a land of merriment and free mushrooms for all!"

The dark wizard glanced up from his place resting atop a sun-warmed bolder. "Hmm, what was that? Did I hear you volunteer to be the first casualty when we come up against a pack of blood-thirsty, seven foot tall orcs with anger management issues?"

"… No."

"Then keep listening to Sensei Boromir. Honor your teacher with your attention. When he tells you not to look in the cauldron, don't look in the bloody cauldron or prepare to be mentally scarred for life."

"… Right …."

Harry sighed as he settled back down and stared up at the sky. The Fellowship and their consulting addition had been traveling for a good week now and the one thing that stuck out to Harry was how exceptionally slow they were going. If he were travelling alone with Luna they would have already been halfway to the southern end of the Misty Mountains by now. However, as they were all walking on foot and the taller members had to make allowance for the short-legged hobbits and dwarf, it would take the party another few weeks to reach the Gap of Rohan. He had tried to suggest apparating to Mordor, but Gandalf explained that the Ring was resistant to all magical influence outside of Sauron, so they were stuck walking. At least the weather was warm and dry; even the birds were enjoying the clear sky.

"I wonder if they will play nicely with Hedwig. They look friendly enough at least," Harry mused.

Strider turned his attention from the training to the wizard stretched out beside him. "What are you speaking of, Black Wizard?"

"Just because the old man calls me that doesn't mean guys have to follow suit," he grumbled. "I was just wondering if those pretty crows coming towards us will get along with my owl. She is hunting a little ways away and I am afraid she is rather possessive of her space and won't take kindly to others invading her territory when she comes back."

"Don't be daft, Forest Spirit," Gimli scoffed. "Those are simply wisps of clouds drifting low."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. "Black clouds flying fast against the wind? Are you sure about that?" He curled up his knees close to his chest and dropped his head down, trying to regain his previous thought process.

Legolas jumped up onto a rock and peered at the approaching dark mass. "They appear to be… oh no." The elf turned towards Gandalf. "A swarm of Crebain from Dunland approach to the east."

The elder wizard's face drew back in a grim expression as Boromir shouted "quick, we must seek cover immediately!" Harry could hear panicked squeaks from the hobbits and clumsy shuffling. He looked up a moment later to find that he was the only one still plainly visible in the area as everyone else had taken refuge behind the sparse vegetation or under the protruding rock formations.

"All right, then; I guess we aren't going to be taking the part of the host this evening and instead will burrow in ill-concealed hidey-holes. Cower in fear ye untold foes, for we are the Fellowship!" Harry muttered under his breath, amused. With a shrug he pulled off his cloak and flipped it around before settling the fabric back around his shoulders and over his head. The world dulled to a monochrome landscape as it always did when he was veiled beneath his favorite Hallow. There was something… off, though. The birds flying above looked to be fuzzy black pinpoints as expected, sailing through a sea of light gray swirls and dips. Sweeping his gaze across the ground, Harry hissed and shielded his eyes with his arm.

In the same spot where Frodo and Strider had laid in hiding under a large boulder, a blinding white light blazed, standing out from the rest of the dreary surroundings. Taking a few steps closer, Harry realized that the light was coming from a spot on Frodo's chest. It was the Ring.

_What? The hell is it glowing? Merlin, this is getting weird. Wait- no, bad Harry, don't get involved in creepy dark magic soul shite; we know how well that ended up last time. Just keep things simple and help a group of cats, dogs, and hamsters throw a possible horocrux-wannabe into a volcano in the middle of an evil warlock's empire and stick a reluctant king back on his war-ridden throne. So simple…_

The inky blotches circled around in the sky for a short time before turning back the way they had come and flying away. The rest of the party sighed in union before climbing out of their hiding places. Harry continued staring at the Ring, watching the intense light bob up and down over Frodo's heart as the hobbit walked.  _Creepy dark magic soul shite sure is intriguing to look at. It is like the sun; the pain of staring at it too long makes it even more tempting._

"Hey, where's Harry?" Pippin asked.

"Oh no; the crows have taken our accomplice- uh, our friend. We must rescue him!" Merry's voice piped up in response.

Harry looked back at the two hobbits running circles around each other. Frodo sighed as Sam began lecturing about how they "would most certainly have noticed a snack-sized portion of gamy meat carrying away our well-armed Black Wizard, my word don't you two ever use your brain, must all altercations end with your useless panic, but really where has Harry wondered off too?"

Walking up behind the two pouting hobbits, Harry was about to whip off his cloak and announce His Royal Highness's return when an internal nagging voice of concern caught his attention. Tensions were running high at the moment; Strider, Legolas, and Gandalf actually seemed to be rather concerned about the new development with the birds, so perhaps it was best to act like a mature adventurer for once. There would be plenty of time for gayety and general fuckery later on.

With that in mind, Harry retreated behind one of the more distantly set large rocks and crouched low before removing his cloak and reappearing. Peaking over the top of his makeshift fortress, Harry called out, "is it clear? Are the terrifying birdies gone?"

Gandalf narrowed his eyes at the younger wizard. "The spies of Saruman have retreated for now. Yet, I fear we have not gone undetected. They are probably returning to their Master's Keep to report our location as we speak. We must be cautious in which pass we choose to cross; there are unfriendly eyes everywhere."

"Then we must move swiftly," Legolas concluded. With agile feet that Harry was in no way, shape, or form jealous of (at least  _he_  didn't look like a Malfoy-Kreacher love child) the elf began methodically packing up their campsite. The majority of the party joined in, though a certain pair of pests couldn't help but glue themselves to Harry.

"So, you kinda just disappeared on us, huh?"

"Hmm."  _Insert blanket into bag, insert pillow into bag, insert painting of Luna into bag. Done packing._

"How'd you get over there so fast?"

"Hmm."  _Must find more mundane work to appear busy; don't want to give away potential escape methods… Insert ornamental snake into bag…_

"Is it some secret wizard practice? Can you teleport? We promise not to tell Gandalf."

"Yeah, we swear on our honor!"

"Uh, sure, our honor…"

 _Snakes have fangs, snakes have fangs! Abort mission, withdraw; we must live to fight another day! It would really have sucked if I hadn't built an immunity to Manny's venom already._  Giving up, Harry fixed the pestering hobbits with a serious look.

"If you really must know, my cloak allows the wearer to disappear from both physical sight and magical sense. With any luck those crows probably didn't even notice I was here."

Pippin and Merry shared a nervous glance before leaning closer to Harry and lowering their voices.

"You know, it might be best of you don't joke about things like that. It is a bit of a…"

"Sensitive topic, if you will. There are some subjects-"

"Better left unspoken of aloud."

"Excellent way of putting it, Merry."

"Why thank you, Pippin."

"Indeed," Legolas spoke up. "That was a very unwise thing to say, Black Wizard, even in jest. The power of true invisibility is widely known to be a gift granted with use of the Ring. It is a dark, corrupt ability, a shining layer of gold to gild the curse lying within the twisted metal. In the present context, that was a poorly timed quip."

Harry stared at the elf as he went back to work loading their single pack mule stand-in pony, whom Sam called Bill and Harry dubbed an honorary Weasley by name-default, disbelief hidden behind shuttered eyes. Turning his head, he stiffly observed Gandalf, waiting for the wizard to speak up. All he received was a couple of twitched from the bushy gray eyebrows:  _we'll talk later._

Harry pursed his lips and crossed his eyes:  _what the bloody hell does later mean?_

A dignified sniff and a dainty cough informed him that:  _later is late, not now, with an r added at the end for emphasis and balance that only the crooked finger of letters can bring to a lone word. Later._

A specially chosen straightened finger served to convey Harry's response adequately. The younger wizard turned towards Sam to assist in packing away the remainder of the kitchen supplies, allowing his hands to follow the expert's strict instructions of stuffing while his mind was given reign to have its second internal meltdown in as many weeks.

_The bloody Ring turns people invisible? Is that how Frodo pulled his disappearing act back at the Prancing Pony? And Strider never thought it might be a good idea to inform me of that fact when he was giving me the abridged history for dummies? Clearly there is far too much about the magic of this world that the Ents were unable to teach me in our time together. Gandalf and I must schedule a heart-to-withered-old-heart soon. Well, at least the weather is still nice._

~ A Few Days Later ~

_I am cursed. This group is cursed. I shall never again utter any optimistic words in my life, even within my own mind. I place a plague on who's ever house it was that thought snow would be a jolly addition to this world._

Harry had been thrilled when Gandalf declared they would be heading over the mountain Caradhras to cross the expanse of the Misty Mountains. He had spent many nights on the serene peaks, apparating to the top of the mountain when he required a quietness that the life in his forest couldn't offer. These visits had only taken place during the spring and summer, however; winter brought with it an entirely different experience for those venturing on the narrow ledges that served as a hazardous walkway.

But truly, it wasn't the cold or the snow-river that made the mountain so unpleasant. A few simple heating charms on the company's coats and a widespread feather-light enchantment kept the temperature from being a major issue, prevented the hobbits and Gimli from drowning in white, and earned Harry a loud declaration of undying love and loyalty from Them-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-For-Sanity-Reasons. No, the main obstacle atop the thrice damned deathtrap was the snow that hadn't yet made itself a burden on the ground, but was stubbornly acting as a far more inconvenient nuisance swirling around in the air. There was nothing except white everywhere. The weather hampered sight in every direction and lowered the general visibility for all barring the elf and younger wizard. As consequence, most of Harry's focus was centered on assuring one of the members didn't accidently take a misplaced step and go for an unscheduled dive from his place in the rear while Legolas took the responsibility of leading the group. The conditions were poor, every step tedious, and Harry's reliable source of amusement and irritation was finally silenced during the few days he would have welcomed the constant commentary. Manny had entered a winter hibernation for the first time since Harry had met the snake.

"Are we there yet?" Harry yelled over the shivering hobbits and bent over men's' heads towards the front of the line in an attempt to spark some ember of conversation.

Legolas peered shrewdly over his shoulder. "Are your eyes dysfunctional? Do these icy cliffs look to you like the fiery gates of Mordor?"

Harry sighed. "It was a- forget it. I failed to make a funny. May Merlin deliver mercy onto my frozen soul. Just keep trudging."

The Fellowship continued on for hours, only stopping twice for break and bread before restarting their journey. In his boredom, Harry had managed to lull himself into a semi-unconscious state in which he was detached enough from the physical to rest while still maintaining the flow of magic to his various spells. This state was entirely to blame for distracting Harry to the point where he didn't notice the rest of the group had stopped. In the end, all that mattered was that no, Pippin didn't fall off the mountain, and yes, Harry did have reflexes that had no business belonging to a man in his sixties.

"Why have we halted?" Harry called out. "Dear Lords and Ladies, please don't tell me the foul fowls have returned?"

"A voice of ill intent carries in the wind," Legolas replied over the howling of the storm.

Harry waited a few moments for an unforthcoming continuation. "And what the bloody hell does that mean?"

"Saruman has found us," Gandalf answered instead. "His magic poisons the air and seeps into the ground; he means to see us off the ledge. Stay close to the wall!"

"No problem!" Harry gritted out as he plastered himself and the two hobbits in front of him against the stone wall with his arm to avoid a dozen snow-encrusted rocks falling from above. "Is he trying to bring down the entire mountain?"

Strider glanced towards Harry from his own position pinning back the hobbits on either side of him. "His intentions are clear enough, I would think. Gandalf, we must go back!"

"There is no other path safer than this."

"Oh, cut the crap, old man," Harry growled as he nodded his head, directing a particularly curious piece of falling debris away from the group. "I can think of a dozen routes safer than this- that being  _all_  other routes."

Any response was cut off by a cracking noise and a violent shake of the earth beneath their feet. Everyone grabbed onto something or someone in an attempt to keep from tumbling over the edge. Harry shielded his face with the ends of his cloak and squinted over the edge through the increased flying snow. He saw Frodo standing stock still a safe distance from danger and was about to let his eyes wander to seek out the other members of the party. Then a pair of hands shot out from the white blur and shoved Frodo harshly. He was over the ledge in an instant.

A string of heavy words boomed from Gandalf's mouth and helped to restart Harry's heart. He dove to the ledge and peeked over to see a frozen-faced Frodo flying back up the side of the mountain. Harry grabbed the hobbit's arm and hulled him to a stop. After checking him over and asking "are you okay? Still alive, correct? Why aren't you answering me-… no need to yell" a few dozen times, Harry turned back towards the rest of the Fellowship with a glare.

An avalanche of snow set loose by an extraordinarily inconvenient bolt of lightning stalled the impending lecture.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me with this one," Harry muttered, his head turned at a right angel towards the oncoming white. "Pipe down with your chanting, geezer; I've got this one. Frodo, throw the Ring at a forty degree slope over the ledge!"  
  
"What?"  
  
Boromir cut in. "Don't be a fool. We must keep a tight grip on-"  
  
Frodo gave Harry a quick look. He pulled the necklace over his head, ran his fingers over the metal with a green light in his eyes, and then squeezed them shut before throwing the Ring into the white mess.  
  
"Perfect toss. Ten out of ten."

  
"You idiots! What have you done-" 

 _“Portus_." Pulling a rope from his cloak, Harry threw it up the line and instructed everyone to grab on. "One, two, thre-." The portkey went off and snow hit snow.

"… I don't suppose you'll share that parlor trick with me later?"

"Maybe one day, old man."

Frodo glanced around, a panicked expression on his face. "Where is it? What have you done with my-"  
  
A chain _thumped_ to the ground and fell into a self-made hole in the snow directly next to Frodo's feet. The hobbit reached down and snatched it up. He offered a tentative smile to Harry.

Boromir stepped forward, a frown firmly planted on his face. "I take it we are at the base of the mountain, yes?" Harry nodded and the man’s face eased. "Excellent, then we can begin making our way towards the Gap of Rohan to my homeland."

This declaration sparked another dog-hamster spat that Harry immediately tuned out of. Instead, an ambiguous pair of hands occupied his thoughts. _Was it an accident, or has someone within the Fellowship really attempted to murder Frodo? But who was it, and why?_ The haziness caused by the whirling snow erased all details from Harry's mind and left doubt and suspicion in its wake. _Who…_

"Through the Mines of Moria it is!" Gimli's joyous shout rang out.

Harry finally looked up to see an excited dwarf, an uncertain Frodo, and a distressed Gandalf. "Uh, mines… as in underground mines?"

~ Five Hours Later ~

Voices were screaming and the beating of drums pulsed through the dark caverns. Tales of pain, loss, and death pushed into Harry's head from all sides, blocking the outside world from his attention as he focused on his occlumency shield- the only thing keeping him sane in the suffocating chaos. The hopeless despair over the painfully simple riddle that literally revealed the password outright was ignored, Bill's tragic departure was received in silence, and even the sea serpent, the prophesized messiah that featured in many of Manny's musings come to life, failed to stir a reaction from Harry. Only when the sea monster's attack resulted in a cave-in that sealed them within the mines did Harry pull out from his own head. He threw a bombarda maxima curse at the newly minted wall out of spite, but the dwarven runes running through the rock merely laughed it off.

Boromir was right: this mine was a makeshift tomb. No living soul had graced the soil for years, at least. Death's presence was found in every armored skeleton lying on the ground, in each ripple disturbing the surface of the streams running through the otherwise still chambers. Harry couldn't bring himself to think of how Gimli would react to cousin Balin's undeniable fate, not while the lord dwarf's dying shrieks continued to echo in his ears.

The group cautiously wandered farther into the mines, following the white glow of Gandalf's staff and the eerie green of Harry's wand. The walkways were decayed and falling apart at the seams, causing everyone to stumble along the way. The "that's it for the day, everyone go sleep or something" Gandalf called only a few hours into their journey was a welcomed retrieve, if a suspicious one.

"We're lost, aren't we?" Boromir declared as he stared at the grey wizard brooding a number of paces away from the group that surrounded a small fire. "He has no idea where he's leading us."

Strider tried to come to his friend's defense. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm sure Gandalf is just trying to remember the quickest way through."

"Yes, and with all of those decades upon decades upon centuries of memories and experience, just how long do you think picking out a brief passing visit is going to take?" No immediate response was given.

"Well, what do you suppose we do about it?" Strider finally sighed. The two men stared at each other for a while before slowly turning to face Harry.

"… Black Wizard? Do you suppose you could do us a favor and go have a chat with Gandalf about our navigation issue? Please?"

Harry lifted his head and peered up at the men, his chin still resting on his knees and his body curled together tightly to conserve warmth around his middle in hopes of speeding up Manny's recovery. "Why me? I just want to take a nap."

"You see," Boromir began, "out of all of us here, you're the only one Gandalf is interested in impressing; the hobbits already adore him, dwarves respect him, elves have a haughty acknowledgement of his usefulness, and we men tend to ignore wizards when they aren't trying to kill us. Therefore, instead of offering calming lies to sooth you, he'll puff up and reveal everything he actually knows and you can deduce whether or not it's enough to keep him from guiding us directly into the bottom of a trench. Go  _consult_  for us."

Opening his mouth, Harry prepared to deliver a Shakespearian soliloquy of just how many things he would rather be doing, when he froze. After a minute of deliberation, Harry flashed a smile and stood up. "Pardon me, but I must go and diligently work for that salary I still haven't seen a coin of yet."

Strolling over to Gandalf's self-exiled corner, Harry spun around and knelt down facing the old wizard. "Evening. Out of curiosity, you wouldn't happen to be blindly guiding us to our bloody ends, would you?"

Gandalf started dramatically. "What! Why, of course not, I know exactly where I'm going. Well, the recent battles have changed the landscaping quite a bit and I don't remember that rock being next to the latrines and I haven't recognized a single corridor yet and-"

"Excellent! Then it seems we are in good hands, glad to hear it. Now, on a completely related topic, would you mind explaining to me everything there is to know about the Ring? It would greatly help with my consulting duties and what not. I believe I may have heard of a similar set of items where I'm from."

This statement created a spark of interest in Gandalf's eyes. "Ah, so you do admit to originating in another land. Care to elaborate?"

"Uh, Gandalf, I think something is following us."

"Yes, Frodo, that would be Gollum. Would you give us a minute? We are discussing the means of conception for a magical baby."

"U-oh. So-sorry to interrupt that- topic. I'll… just be going then."

Harry studied his opponent, preparing for a dual of the mind, a battle of wits. "A trade-off of information, then?"

"That would be what I'm proposing."

"Well, as the instigator to this proposition, you get to answer me first. Fair?"

Gandalf narrowed his eyes. "Very well."

The reality of the situation revealed to him was not at all what Harry wanted to hear, though pretty much what he expected. All of the information Strider had provided him with was confirmed, but the more in-depth description was extraordinarily troubling. Beyond gifting the wearer with invisibility like the Deathly Hallow's cloak and bestowing the certified right to rule, a true madness lay within the Ring, one that seeped into its current puppet's mind and perverted it to an unrecognizable mess, as shown by its longest victim, Gollum. The obsession it created resembled the curse that had lain inside of Voldemort's horocruxes, further worrying Harry over its existence. If the Ring was really the sole reason Sauron was still alive after being defeated so many years ago, then it went without question that he needed to stay. Ensuring its destruction was his main priority, Death's prophecy be damned.

Once his explanation reached a conclusion, Gandalf leaned back against his reclining rock and puffed on the pipe he had lit halfway through the tale as he waited for Harry to finish processing. Eventually, the younger look up and nodded once.

"I see. That's lovely to know," he managed with a thin smile.

"Hmm," Gandalf hummed, raising an eyebrow. "No afterthoughts or controversial second opinions to add on?"

"Do you really want to go there again, old man?"

"I'm prepared this time. Anything you have to say, I can return with full force."

"I love you robes."

"… Damn you."

"Are they handmade or did the elves craft them? It must take true talent and a dash of feminine touch to achieve such a well-worn, well-loved look."

"Oh, shut up."

Straightening, Harry rolled his shoulders and organized his thoughts to begin his side of the bargain when Gandalf raised a hand.

"Do you hear that?" Harry listened closely.

"I can't hear anything besides Gollum's labored breathing."

"Precisely."

The two wizards turned and were met with the sight of an extinguished fire pit and eight sleeping figures. The hobbits were all piled atop one another for comfort, although Frodo had rolled a bit away from the mass, and the other men were each in various stages of sleep on their pallets.

"I thought Strider was going to take first watch."

"No, Estel told me Legolas volunteered."

"And I suppose Boromir thought Gimli would do it and vice versa. Typical."

"Indeed." Gandalf sighed. "It seems that the hour has gotten away from us. It is far later than I thought. Go, get any rest you can and I will keep watch for now. We will speak again when there is time."

"Agreed. I still have many questions I want to ask you as well. And, thank you."

A later date did not present itself in the mines, however, as the next day marked an end to their short peace. The destruction inside of the mines hindered Gandalf's navigation greatly and hordes of goblins began to continuously swarm around them after an unfortunate mishap on Pippin's part. The constant fighting and the second heart attack Frodo caused Harry finally culminated in the appearance of a Balrog- a fire demon. Or, in accordance with the Traveler's Guide, a giant, vertical-standing, underground dragon that was merely a  _myth_. It was wrong.

"Of course there is a break in the stairs, there is always a break," Harry hissed. They were slowed on their way towards the only working bridge that led across a deep, fiery pit to the exit of the mines as each member of the Fellowship had to jump an increasingly wide aperture caused by poorly aging construction. Now only Strider, Frodo, and Harry were left to overcome the resulting long hypotenuse with no rear escape route.

A roar from the Balrog broke loose the disconnected chunk of staircase from its foundation, leaving their island unstable and wobbling.

"Lean forward, both of you!" Strider yelled over the noise. They did so and the stairs briefly swung towards safety, crashing into the section holding the rest of their group. It tipped back a moment later, leaving Strider and Frodo on mostly solid ground and taking with it a figure that was only just succeeding in pulling his cloak free from a snag a little too late.

"Harry!" "Forest Spirit!" "Black Wizard!" a collection of voices screamed.

"Oh Bollock." Harry sprinted up the stairs and jumped onto the chunk of stone steps connected to the side of the pit they had come from. The island fell a few seconds after.

"Right then," he shouted, staring at the humongous gap between himself and the Fellowship. "I… suppose I'll just find another way to the bridge."

"There is no other way! Quick we must construct a-"

"Don't be ridiculous old man; you must lead Frodo and the rest to safety. They are your first priority. I'm a wizard- I'll magic my way across or something. Go!"

Once Harry saw the group turn to carry on, he swiftly climbed the stairs to the landing above. Stopping, he took a breath, relaxed his facial muscles, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back, listening to the shrieks of the Balrog. He ran his hand over Manny's scales, calming himself against what he heard.

**< Fire, Death, Destruction to all! I rise to bring down the world. In Fire it ends again, in Ash it begins again!>**

**< Silence.>**

**< … Who speaks my ancient and noble tongue, the language of the dark, of the old?>**

It was almost funny how many supposedly unique, dastardly languages ended up sounding like an altered version of Parseltongue. There was no humor in listening to promises of death onto his companions by a beast very much capable of such a feat while they were running closer to said beast, however. He needed to ensure the threat was neutralized before continuing on with the Fellowship. Even if they all made it out unscathed today, the Balrog could escape and join the dark army. Harry had seen the damage dragons could do on the battlefield, and he had no desire to see how this new creature measured up to them.

**< You won't be harming anyone, ever. Stay in your grave or face a more permanent placement.>**

A shrill cry crackled through the air, a cruel laugh that shook the walls and toppled more precarious structures. < **Puny man, come down here and jussst try. >**

Harry smiled softly. "I'm so glad you offered first." Sword in his left hand and wand in his right, he took a step forward and dropped into the pit.

~ With the Fellowship ~

"The noise and the shaking have stopped, Gandalf."

"I know, Frodo."

"Harry still hasn't come back yet, Gandalf."

"I know, Frodo."

~ With the Balrog ~

Harry sat leaned against the blood splattered wall on the damp stone ground, panting softly as he stared at the mountainous charred corpse lying beside him. "Immune to fire, huh? I guess you've never encountered fiendfyre before. Or twice. The third time was just out of spite, really. The fourth was for my own entertainment."

While it was nice being surrounded by nature and having people around to talk to and joke with, they all became burdens when a true fight started. Arrows, axes, and swords could cut through orc flesh just fine, but before a creature of legend only unconstrained magic stood a chance. As Gandalf was far more necessary to the quest than he, Harry had figured he could be the one to take the gamble this time.

Rising slowly, Harry set his side along the wall and inspected himself. The Hallows were incapable of harming their master, so the fiendfyre hadn't directly burned him, but the Balrog's own flames had left a few blistering patches were his cloak failed to protect him. A few ribs felt bruised, maybe broken, from where the beast had sent him flying into the walls when his hand grazed Harry, but the injuries were all nonfatal and would heal in a matter of days.

Glancing up, Harry judged the distance to the top and prepared to apparate himself out, wishing he still had his broom. However, as soon as the spell left his lips, Harry felt a bludgeoning darkness overcome him and was left with the parting thought that maybe he had overdone it a bit.  _Merlin, I hate being undergro-_

~ In Isengard at This Time ~

Saruman stood in front of his desk, a collection of old single sheets of vellum laid out on the surface.

"It seems the first attempt on the Caradhras failed," he mused as he watched nine shapes exit the Mines of Moria in his spyglass. He crossed out a line of text scribbled in the bound journal he was leaning over. "But there will be another." He circled the line under it. "And another, and one after that, and a thousand more to follow."

The edges of his mouth turned up and his eyes narrowed as Saruman ran his hands over the yellowing, burnt pages next to his book gently, caressing them. "Yes, with these there is no end to the potential of ways I can crush them. The members of the precious  _Fellowship_  won't make it halfway to their destination, not when they keep turning on each other. Gandalf won't recognize any foreign hand in his little group until it is too late. I have gained the means to definitively end this doomed excursion in the most unlikely of places. I will wipe out these pests; all nine of them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is probably one of the worst cliffhangers I am going to subject you all to (probably…). In light of this fact, I will forgo an interlude as the next update and go straight into Chapter 10. Maybe this will make you all hate me less…
> 
> Also, as Harry begins to get out of his Luna-influenced, tree-hugging life in the forest mindset there will likely be an increase in vulgarity. Curses. Potter potty mouth talk. Rated T for mature teenagers.


	12. Snakes Are Our Friends (Except When They Aren’t)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I ain’t dead yet, so thanks for not killing me for the last update. Or the lengthy wait for this update. Or out of boredom. Your patience and support is well appreciated. Also, I apologize for Manny beforehand. I didn’t want to write about him so much, but he wouldn’t stop complaining and _Snakes. This is something of a transitory chapter to the next major scene. The eleventh chapter will be much more plot-based (yes, this story actually has a plot, even if it doesn’t seem so yet, twelves updates in…)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Betaed by Noradin and KaribookWorm_

He was so warm. Warmer than he could ever remember being. After that hellish experience when the cold white dots rained down from the skies in what he was sure, despite his human’s blatant dismissal of the reasonable notion, was an attack from the avian air force to destroy him, the heat felt like a boiling paradise.      

Sighing in appreciation, Manny snuggled tighter around his heater before freezing in confusion. His human’s torso was moving a lot slower than usual, and the drops were shallower. As a constant worrier, his breathing was usually fast-paced and erratic, even after ten years of relative peace in the home-forest. This new rate was uncomfortable in its unfamiliarity, and somewhat concerning. Unraveling himself, Manny ventured out of his Harry-cocoon through his human’s neck-hole and peered up at closed eyes.

**< Human? Are you alright? Harry? Why aren’t you answering me?! No, don’t tell me those darned birds got to you? Say it ain’t so!> **Manny paused and waited for the customary softly mumbled rebuke and pat on the head he always received for such “delusional” comments that seemed to humor his human. When no response appeared to be forthcoming, Manny hissed out a sigh and prepared to settle in for a long session of staring forlornly at the wizard’s face and thinking up new tactics for world domination until Harry awoke from his, hopefully short, hibernation. Then the scent of smoke, flames, and charred flesh hit his tongue.

Manny reared back in alarm and flung his head back and forth. To the right and left he could see walls of tall dark rock towering far up out of sight. Over his human’s head he could see only a certain distance before murky darkness blotted out the rest of the area. It was in front of Harry that Manny located the source of the smell; lying a dozen snake-lengths away was a large, burning pile of flesh and bones- the remains of a great, powerful creature, probably defeated by the now unconscious wizard.

**< My human is so cool.> **Manny hissed to himself smugly, then double checked that Harry was still asleep. < **Good, he didn’t need to hear that. >**

However, as Manny observed the blaze, the fire seemed to finish devouring the few consumable parts of the beast left, and was now spreading out to seek further nourishment. Flames danced across the ground towards them, worrying Manny.

**< Uh, Harry, I don’t mean to rush your mid-day nap, but we gotta go. Like, yesterday. Wake up!> **The prone body didn’t so much as twitch. Manny writhed in distress, swinging his head to the nearing flames and back to his wizard. < **Wee woo wee woo─danger, danger! Come on, I can’t carry you! If I were human-sized too this would be so much easier. Grow legs my beautiful, majestic tail! > **He gave the tail a good few blinks before moving on to another idea. < **You just missed out on the chance of a lifetime… >**

Diving back under the cloak, Manny explored Harry for a way to wake him. There was a book, a golden ball, and some bread in his pockets; nothing beneficial. He sprung from the arm-opening, searching frantically. Winding his way down the arm, Manny found the wizard’s other long, thin friend near his hand, but threw the stick away with his tail- which was now on probation- since he knew it was of no use to him. Then the glittering stone that always adorned Harry’s finger caught his eye. < **Maybe if I… >**

Cautiously, Manny fitted his fangs around the band of the ring and worked it off his hand. Harry had told him during one of his stories that his cloak, his wand-stick, and the shiny rock on his ring were all uber-powerful and sacred and stuff, but the rock was especially dangerous. He’d stressed, always mentioning that he was using small words, which Manny thought was a habit he should try harder to kick, that the ring should not, under any circumstances, no matter how extraneous or hilarious, ever leave his finger, “I’m serious you little slippery sneak, don’t do it.” Manny used to have a blast imagining what catastrophe would happen if he managed to somehow trick Harry out of the ring, but now he just hoped it would jolt him awake.

When the ring came off and fell heavily to the ground in two pieces, Harry was still unresponsive.

**< Ahhhhh! Wake! Up!> **The fire had spread and was only a few snake-lengths away. < **I’ll leave you! > **Manny threatened. Harry’s body was apparently not intimidated. < **Oh, don’t give me that look! Fine, I’ll stay. But I won’t burn to death with you- I’m way too pretty for that. You are waking up. > **Slithering back, Manny faced Harry and compressed his body into a tight coil. < **This is not going to end well for either of us, but I’m doing it anyway. Don’t move. > **Then he struck, aiming a bite at Harry’s neck. He hit dead-on the jugular.

For a moment Manny saw and heard nothing but white, and then a rock wall with black spots dancing on it came into view and he heard a high-pitched whine. He realized he was flying through the air a second after he crashed into the wall. Unfortunately, he failed to land on one of the soft-looking dark spots and instead fell to the ground with a sore everything and a chipped left fang.

* * *

 

Harry felt his magic simmer in and around him. The amount seemed sparser than usual, but no less warm and protective and… mad? _What? Why are you angry? What happened?... I don’t remember. Oh Bollocks, where am I?_

**< Ooooouch. That was way worse than what I signed up for. I want a refund.>**

Harry turned his head towards the low lisped hiss, moaning when something in his neck creaked. He saw fire and- _oh. Right. The Balrog. I killed it, and then I passed out because I tried apparating when my magic was severely depleted. It doesn’t feel as low now though, so I guess that’s a plus. Yeah, I deserve a longer nap…_

**< The pain, the pain is real!>**

_Oh, for Salazar’s sake. <_ **Maaaanny! Quiet down would you? Five more minutes… still tired… >**

**< Oh, you’re tired? Well I’m- … Harry!> **The wizardturned his head, scratching his cheek on the graveled ground in the process, to observe his friend inching his way over towards him one aborted slither at a time. < **Body hurts, but must make way over to human… must cuddle human and make him suffer for undeserved stress he caused… almost there and-yes! All right Harry, now I need you to pick me up and set me on your breathing place and we can get this show moving. Well, once you put out the death fire heading towards us, of course. Get to it, Mister Wizarding School dropout. >**

Not finding the will to be affronted by the snake, Harry interpreted Manny’s banter as comical and fulfilled his request, gathering the long body up and plopping him on top of his upper body. He then returned his head to the ground and settled in for his nap.

Manny shivered under Harry’s petting, making the wizard blink one eye open to stare questioningly down at his chest. < **Harry, I wasn’t kidding about the fire. It’s, like, really close now. Put it out or run! If you don’t, it’s been a pleasure serving with you. Just set me back down and I’ll find my own way out, thanks. >**

Harry sighed before leaning up and looking behind him. The sight that met him caused a grin to break out over his face. His fiendfyre had finished its job with the Balrogand was now making its way back to Harry, seeking approval for its work and eager to reunite with the rest of his magic. Ever since he’d managed to begin learning more about the volatile spell through practicing with it during his visits to the mountain, he had been itching to find an opportunity to release it in a place where there wasn’t anything or anyone else in the vicinity to become collateral damage. Also, since the Balrog’s own fire seemed to have already burned out by this point, Harry wasn’t too concerned.

**< It’s fine Manny. This is friendly fire. See?> **Harry held out his hand, which caused the flames that had traveled and paused only an arm’s reach away to jump up and surge forward into his waiting palm. The fire brightened where it touched its creator, then began to dim and fade out until only embers remained to give light in the otherwise black abyss. Harry sat up, causing Manny to slide down into his lap, and patted around him before finding his wand and casting a lumos. He gazed at the fizzling dots of fire in pride. “I knew there was a way to fully complete the spell without having it burn out on its own once cut off from its magical source or after it consumes its wizard. Beautiful…”

**< You really need to tell me when you make other friends, Harry, **Manny complained. **If I’d known the heat was a less-cool buddy of yours, I wouldn’t have had to bite you to try and save your life. Wait, even I heard it that time. There is sound logic in that sentence somewhere, you just need to dig for it. >**

**< Hold on,> **Harry stated, looking down at his snake in shock. < **You tried to attack me when I was unconscious? Manny, are you insane?! You know my magic has a strict protect now, arrange for funeral expenses later policy! Even if it recognizes you as a friend, it could have done some serious damage to you! I don’t want to wake up one day to find a Manny-kabob floating face-down in a nearby waterhole or something. >**

Manny hissed uncomfortably, burying his head under the rest of his heaped body. ** <Yeah, I know. But I thought you would die and… it only threw me against a not-soft wall a little…>**

**< My magic threw you…!> **Taking a deep breath, Harry calmed himself down and resumed his petting in order to coax his friendout from his ostrich-themed hiding. < **I’m sorry for yelling. Thanks, little guy. You can chill out around my shoulders until you feel better; no work-required torso for you. >**

**< Well, you’re welcome then,> **Manny replied hesitantly. He resurfaced his head and rearranged his length so he could drape across Harry’s shoulders in his favorite position. < **Yeah, this is nice. That nap you were spouting on about earlier? I’m feeling it now. Having emotions sure does take some energy, huh? > **The snake’s body began vibrating slightly to show its appreciation, causing Harry to suppress a laugh.

**< Manny?>**

**< Yesssss?>**

**< Are you… purring?>**

**< OF COURSE NOT!> **Manny jerked away from Harry’s neck and stuck his face in front of Harry’s. < **Silence. Silence you evil, no good, bullying wizard! I don’t have to put up with this; I could find a sexy python and run off to make adorable hatchlings with her if I wanted. You don’t know me! You don’t know my life. >**

** <No more watching American dramas in the pensieve from now on.>**

**< … Yeah, alright. I could never really connect with Elena anyways…>**

**< Why exactly is cuddling okay but not purring?>**

Manny swiveled his head away and made a point of studying the burning carcass that continued with its impression of a bonfire, implying it was a more entertaining and worthwhile pursuit than facing Harry and his stupid question. < **To cuddle is to show affection by hugging and wrapping the victim in an embrace of love; no creature can claim to embrace more completely and securely than the noble snake. Purring, on the other hand, is a degrading noise made by desperate cats, the occasional dog that wasn’t taught how to properly whine, and birds. >**

**< Hedwig doesn’t purr.>**

**< Yes, you’ve reeducated her well,> **Manny conceded. ** <Now if you could just squeeze out her species’ natural evilness from her, I would consider allowing her the title of my acquaintance.>**

**< Oh, I’m sure she’ll be honored to hear that and definitely not try to eat you. Speaking of which, I wonder where she went. I haven’t seen her since she flew off a few days before we reached the mines…>**

**< All we can do is hope she fell into a vat of serpents on her merry way and was never seen or heard from again. We can only hope…>**

Standing up, Harry spent a few luxurious minutes stretching out his clenched muscles, tuning out Manny’s chatter. “Since the Balrog has been‒heh‒‘dealt’ with, I guess I’d better go catch up with the others. I shouldn’t be too far behind, it’s only been…” < **Hey Manny? >**

**< Yes?>**

**< How long have I been out?>**

**< Hmm, if you factor in approximately how long I was hibernating for, the time it would take for the fire to consume the big snake, and the duration of your average naps, I’d say about… three months? Give or take a decade.>**

**< That’s a great help.> **_I need to teach him the concept of the passage of time one day. Still, he must have been really stressed to be so far off._ With a flick, Harry cast a tempus.

“Oh, it’s only been a little less than a day. I should be able to catch up with them in a few hours. Once I find a way out of here, that is. Merlin, this is one deep trench; can’t even see a sliver of light from the mines down here. I should rest a little longer to avoid another episode like earlier.” < **Thought up any good jokes while you were vegetating? >**

Harry settled back down with his legs crossed in preparation for a short intermission before starting after the Fellowship. Or should he even go back?

_I got separated from them pretty darn early in the game; maybe I could use this to my advantage and wander on my own for a bit, gathering intel the wizard-with-an-invisibility-cloak way. But if I don’t return soon, they’ll probably think I’m dead. That sounds too much like the “it’s all for the Greater Good” crap Dumbledore clung to. If there was ever one thing we disagreed on, it was whether the end always justified the means. I miss the old coot so much right now. W.W.D.D‒ what would Dumbledore do?_

Harry pondered his options, and idly brought his hands together to twist the band that always sat on his left hand, only to encounter pure skin. _What, why does my ring feel like epidermis? Oh, because it’s not there…_    

In a fit of expletives he’d only ever encountered in the boy’s dressing room after a lost Quidditch match, Harry jerked to full paranoid awareness and gaped momentarily at his bare finger. _Bad, bad, very, horrendously bad. But I never take it off, where could it have gone in the last day?_

_Manny! <_ **Manny, did you touch my ring? > **Harryasked the snake, who had stretched himself out on the ground to darkness-tan while recounting his new puns. He tried to keep clear of an accusing tone, not wanting to scare his friend if he didn’t, or for that matter did, do something to the ring, and cause him to panic. By the way the snake was now starting to curl into himself again, he’d say he failed.

**< Um, maybe? Is there really a right answer to this question? I request another one; for example, what is my weight? It’s a delicate topic, but I’ll answer just for you.>**

**< Manny?>**

**< All right, I did it! But I was trying to wake you up, and you’d made such a big deal about it before, and then nothing happened and I figured it was all hyperbole to keep me occupied so I wouldn’t revert to my CNN addiction.>**

**< I’m not mad, I promise!> **Harry reassured his now spherical snake, batting down the contradictory voice in his head. < **I just need to find it before something bad happens. >**

Manny nodded determinedly. < **I only wiggled it off a few years ago, and I didn’t see any legs on it so it couldn’t have gotten very far. We’ll track ‘em down now! >**

**< You mean yesterday?> **    

**< Don’t worry so much Harry; this is why your inhalations and exhalations make your chest so unevenly bumpy. Just keep calm and carry on. Like me.>**

**< Like you? You’re literally the antithesis of calm. If the Traveler’s Guide had a definition of calm, your picture would appear for its antonym. You wouldn’t know what calm was if you wrapped yourself around its torso for ten years and held lengthy philosophical debates with it every night before bed!>**

**< I feel like you’re trying to make a point, but I don’t understand what it is so I’m just going to play the Beatles in my head while you conclude this poor excuse for a conversation on your own.>   **

Taking a deep breath and ignoring Manny’s sniggering about his inhalations, Harry pointed his wand downwards and scanned the dark floor, looking for anything that reflected the light of his spell. “Where is my stupid ring? Maybe when I catch up with the others I’ll trade with him; this one is a real pain. Or not. Cause, his is evil and all. I really need to talk to people again.”

“Why my boy, the ring is under your foot! Trying to hide from you I’ll bet; you really must take better care of your possessions Harry. You’ll upset them otherwise.” 

Harry froze. While he felt the small lump under his heel now that it was pointed out, he was far more concerned about the familiar rasp behind him. “I really hope if I turn around now I’ll simply encounter my imaginary friend Steve that my mind created to establish the illusion of human companionship.”

“I’m afraid not,” the jolly voice continued. “Though that would make more sense. I must admit I’m a bit lost as to why I was called here.”

Harry whirled around. “Called here? I tried for years back on Earth to contact you, or my parents, or someone, with no results, before swearing off using the stone. I even sealed it back in Marvolo Gaunt’s ring so it couldn’t read my unconscious desires and bring back loved ones. Do you know how hard it was to do that? And now you just appear in front of me?” Harry tried to squash down his anger, but all of  the pain and guilt of his failure to save even a single soul from his old home was bubbling up with no flood gates and directing towards the only other who could share his suffering.

Dumbledore’s near-translucent wrinkled face scrunched up further, his twinkling eyes shimmering in sadness for his woebegone ex-pupil. “I’m sorry; it is I who failed you, Harry. I should never have left you alone as I did. But,” he asked, an interested gleam in his eyes, “what did you mean by when you were ‘back on Earth’?”

With another deep breath, Harry replied, “the Traveler’s Guide lied about the worry-free living. It was all fluffy fibs and propaganda.”

“Oh ho!” Harry’s old Headmaster grinned. “This is Middle Earth then? I have so many fond memories here as a youth. So many wonders, what with the elves, the dwarves, the forests-”

“-the megalomaniac Dark Lords, the wraiths, the damn elves,” Harry continued under his breath.

“Speaking of old friends, I wonder how Gandalf is doing.” Dumbledore reflected, an odd grin Harry had never seen before falling over his face.

Harry started. “You knew Gandalf? But you never mentioned him in the Traveler’s Guide. It would have been good to know of any other wizards before coming here.”

“Ah, yes, knew him very well,” he replied briskly. “Our relationship was of a more private breed, though, so I felt no need to record any details in that dusty old hand-me-down. Wonderful guide; not a diary.”

“I see,” Harry nodded. “You must have been great friends to inspire such devotion.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore grinned again. “Friends.” The word was abruptly turned into the ending of a grunt and the lines deepened on his face.

Harry tensed and asked “Dumbledore?” as he glanced around for any invisible force that was putting stress onto his old mentor. “What’s wrong?”

“Magic is so strong here; I’d forgotten how thin the veils between the physical and magical are in this world.” Dumbledore gazed at Harry intently. “You must hurry and fix the rift that has been caused. I can’t hold back the others that seek freedom in this land for long.”

With dread, Harry lifted his foot and saw the Resurrection stone pulsing black, living independently from the ring directly beside it.

“If I put them back together, you’ll have to leave,” he said, eyes fixed on the two puzzle pieces. “I won’t be able to talk to you; to any of you.”

“We’re dead, Harry,” Dumbledore stated firmly, despite the strain in his voice, causing Harry to flinch. “I am sorry this happened to remind you of that fact, but you mustn’t fret. It looks like you found your own great adventure.”

Without a word Harry bent down, took the ring and stone in hand and ordered the Hallow to _go back and stay there._ When he opened his hand, the ring was whole once more and only Manny was left in his company. The snake slithered up to Harry in concern when the wizard stayed kneeling for several minutes.

**< Uh, Harry? Who was that? What did he‒>**

**< It was nothing, buddy. **Harry stood up and picked up his snake. **Let’s go find people. We need to leave the skeletons in these mines where they belong, not poke and prod them to further death. >**

**< Huh?>  **

< **Nothing. >**

With his second apparition attempt infinitely more successful than his first, Harry and Manny exited the mines within minutes, and a point-me spell later they were off on their way to rejoin the Fellowship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters are already planned out, so there shouldn't be another several month wait any time soon. Sorry about that.
> 
> Coming Soon…  
> Tales of a Mispronounced Latin Spell: Alternate Stories to “Onto Greener Pastures”
> 
> Summary: It is well-known how quirky wizarding magic can behave for those inexperienced or out of practice. These are the many universes which Harry Potter could have ended up in after leaving his world due to one unfortunate syllable change and the (probably very short) lives he lived in each. Warning: each interconnecting one-shot will contain lots of major character death. If Harry doesn't die horribly by at least every other ending, then I haven't done my job; but he should come back‒eventually. Very few Happily Ever After's here.
> 
> This will be a separately posted work. It will feature many several different crossovers. Excited? Repulsed? Ambivalent? I am probably going to write it either way (read: the first one-shot is already in progress), but I want to know how the fic’s probable audience (read: you guys) feel about this rampant plot bunny wreaking havoc in my head. (Please help: (s)he took a bottle of Adderall and won’t shut up!)


	13. Trickery of the Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pace is about to pick up next chapter and on with major canon plot deviances. 
> 
> Betaed by the phenomenal KaribookWorm.

Harry had been looking forward to his reunion with the Fellowship. He had dreamed about it to keep his mind off of past demons during the three hours it took him to catch up to the company's nearly full day of progress, with quick lightening charms and the foliage helping to clear the path. Since it had been so short a separation, he figured he could make up a tale of getting lost in the mines, finally stumbling upon a ray of sunshine and freedom a few hours later, and then rushing to catch up; he could tell Gandalf and the older members the truth later. Harry was still against putting the young hobbits through any more trauma than strictly stated in the fine print. If all went well, he’d be greeted with a leg of mutton, a handful of nuts, and a nice grassy spot to rest on; night had fallen a while ago.

Instead, he got an arrow to the knee and acid reflux from some bad berries he’d picked off an innocent-looking bush earlier for a snack.   

“Ow, god dammit! Rowena’s tits that stings! Legolas, not cool man. What do I look like, a buck? We do not shoot at allies unless they start it!” Harry howled, hopping in a circle on one leg.

“Black Wizard?” The rustling of branches signaled the elf’s approach towards Harry’s location. “Is that you? Did my arrow pierce you?”

The genuine concern halted and smothered any colorful retort brewing in Harry’s mind. After a thoughtful glance at the shaft sticking out from his patella, he plucked it out with a muffled gasp and chucked it farther into the woods.

“Nope, you should really work on your aim!”

A low-dangling pile of vines was pushed aside to reveal Legolas. His brow was creased as he examined the awkwardly gaited wizard, which greatly relieved Harry as he was starting to think that all elves were made out of silicon and plastic. “If you are not hurt, then why did you make a pained noise?”

Harry sniffed, feigning offense. “Your poorly aimed arrow startled me and I fell, bruising my knee. I am human after all; very delicate and prone to bruising. Fragile.”

This elicited an especially un-elflike snort from Legolas. “Fragile? I see. Then shall I carry your pure white body back to the bivouac and lay you down on a bed of our finest silk to have your injury examined?”    

“Who do you think I am?” Harry raged. “I am the all-powerful Black Wizard. I can down entire armies with a single blow, as long as they’re all already dead. My familiar is a deadly poisonous snake named Maaaaanny! Respect the cloak.” He toned down the terror when he noticed Legolas struggling to keep a calm face, probably because he was so terrified. The two began walking back the way the elf had come, to where the group had temporarily settled for a short break. “But really, I am fine. Though silk is a bit excessive, I would appreciate a soft patch of dirt and a few hours to rest. Are the others asleep?”

Legolas’ face pulled down in a frown. “How could they sleep, especially the kind-hearted hobbits, when they thought one of their friends dead?”

“Dead?” Harry grimaced. “Oh Merlin, I hoped I’d avoid this. I figured your shock at seeing me was more than just surprise at how long it took me to catch up. They all think I’m dead? Even Gandalf?”

With a grim nod, Legolas explained, “Gandalf is the most knowledgeable about the beast that lurks in the mines, so when he refused to say whether you’d make it out and avoid encountering and falling to the Balrog, the rest had no hope to cling to.”

“So I suppose they’ll cling to me when I appear as a big whopping sign of hope?” Harry paused his stride a moment before hurrying to catch up to Legolas, his hand resting over a slumbering Manny on his shoulder. “That sounds excellent. Granted they don’t try and hurt me first for worrying them, but I suppose it would be well deserved.”

“You have odd preferences, wizard,” Legolas commented. He held out an arm to slow Harry from the brisk pace they were maintaining, despite Harry’s rapidly fading limp. “We arrive near the others. I have been gone too long from my post not to arouse the worry and caution of our fellow warriors. Proceed slowly and quietly from here to keep from spooking them into defense.”

Harry nodded in determination. “Okay, slow and quiet it is. I wouldn’t want to be shot at or anything, because that’s just unpleasant and inhumane to do to your friends.”

“It is with luck that I only shot at you, then.”

“Elves have a cruel sense of humor- that was humor, right? Fine, I’m a patron, not a friend; it sounds more official anyways.” Legolas silently hushed Harry as they broke through a tree line into a small clearing that fit a lowly burning fire and the eight people surrounding it, leaving only a small allowance of breathing room to spare.        

As soon as Harry came into sight from behind the tall elf, he was assaulted by dark gazes from the two men tending the smoldering embers. Gandalf and the hobbits were faced away from the approaching light-footed duo; Merry and Pippin seemed to be pestering the older wizard from how they leaned over his hunched figure, while Frodo and Sam stared into the dark forest. Gimli was nowhere to be found.

“Sorry about the delay,” Harry murmured lowly to Boromir and Strider as not to be prematurely overheard by the visibly more distressed faction. He would have to handle them in a vastly different manner. “I ran into a minor delay because I have the sense of direction belonging to a one-eyed Auror high on Polyjuice Potion, and my guide was a lethargic snake that found my predicament highly amusing.”  

“Your words are riddled and tangle upon themselves, wizard, and I assume we’ll have the truth unveiled for us later tonight?” Strider questioned. In a softer tone, he added, “It’s nice to see you with us again.”

“Yeah, I’m not dead yet. Wait poor choice of words; I was nowhere near death, of course. Sorry, I’m practicing for when I have to confront the hobbits. Anyways, you read me flawlessly; explanations come later, apologies first.”  

“You owe no such amends to me- us,” Boromir replied gruffly, poking at the dying fire in the pit harshly with an already smoldered stick. “It is the others you must answer to for the misery you’ve triggered during your absence, the hobbits and the true wizard. Stop stalling like a maiden on her wedding night and go.”

Harry gazed at the man, but Boromir persisted to avoid meeting his eyes. _Sure, he doesn’t look affected at all. Men. Would I have turned out this way without Hermione?_ “Right; I’ll go do that then.” He turned towards Legolas, who had taken a seat beside him across the pit from the two men, and unwound Manny from his shoulder to hand him off to the elf. “Please hold my snake.”

“I…”

“He’s a heavy sleeper, but if by chance he wakes up I’d advise finding a mouse for him to play with so he doesn’t take an interest in… other things.”

Bounding up, Harry dropped all pretenses of stealth, and made his way over to the hobbit and wizard. “Greetings.”

An automatic response was elicited from Merry and Pippin; they whirled away from their present victim, nearly causing them to fall over when they butted heads with each other.

“Harry!” Pippin yelled out as he made to jump at him, but then halted himself, an uncertain frown falling over his features. His worries were soothed when Harry opened his arms with a grin and welcomed the embrace. He glanced over Pippin’s shoulder to check on Merry, only to see the older hobbit staring back at him with a confused glazed sheen over his blue eyes. Harry tensed; the look was one familiar to him, and though he couldn’t place it an icy shiver racked up his spine nonetheless. The next moment the feeling passed and Merry was jumping on top of Pippin, causing Harry to fall backwards to the ground from the unevenly top-heavy weight distribution.

“Where were you? You said you’d be right behind us!”

“No, that was just subtext, Pippin. But what do you think you’re doing ignoring your implied promises! How long does it take to ‘magic across’ a little break in the road! Couldn’t you have at least sent your bird ahead to tell us you were still breathing?”

“It was hardly a little break,” Harry argued. “And Hedwig is taking a personal da-week.” The hobbits carried on with their conversation on top of him, despite his weak protests; the wizard was too preoccupied with the remaining three he had yet to face to put up any more of a fight. Gandalf was still seated tensely and had yet to stand and greet Harry, adding onto a theory he was developing. He then sat, causing Pippin and Merry to tumble off either side of him, and trained his attention on Sam and Frodo.

Frodo’s expressive eyes stared back at him with a dead blue gaze, confusion surfacing once he recognized Harry. Sam stood slightly in front of him and at his side, his own gaze fixed worriedly on Frodo.

“Harry…” the hobbit trailed off.

“Uh,” Harry cleared his throat. “Hey Frodo. Sam. Sorry about the delay; there was this ray of sunshine and… Wait, I mean, well-”

He was saved from further warring with his tongue when Frodo rushed forwards and joined in the tackle-the-Harry game, letting out a gleeful, “You’re alive!”

“Yes, yes,” he wheezed, returning the hobbit’s crushing hug as well as he could with three hobbits bouncing on him. “Now, let’s keep me alive.” He received three happy grins, but no one budged. “Ah, I was thinking maybe we could get up and walk around some? You know, to get the blood pumping through our rapidly numbing legs. No one else interested? Just me?”

Harry, with no small amount of effort, managed to get the troublesome hobbits off him without letting his internal squeals over their adorable affectionate behavior be made known to the outside world. _Merlin, am I glad I was only gone for a day. It would have been so much worse if I’d been out any longer. I should reward Manny for awakening me later… maybe I’ll knit him that tail-sweater he’s been asking for… or maybe I’ll learn to knit first._

Standing up, he brushed himself down and took another quick glance at Sam. While the other hobbits were all glad he was safe and seemed to be willing to forgive his short delay with little fuss, Sam’s distance suggested a future confrontation between them. Harry mentally listed it next to the explosion he was awaiting from Boromir, and behind the talk he wanted to have with Gandalf. Speaking of which…

“This is excellent,” Pippin was insisting to Merry. “Now we can keep to our strict schedule of planned pranks- everyone who isn’t Harry, please ignore us for now- and daily dosages of mischief for raising team morale. Isn’t it great that Harry is back?”

But when he looked up, Merry’s eyes were glazed over and staring back, uncomprehending. “Harry…?”

Pippin gasped and shook his friend’s shoulders, “Merry? Mer, what’s wrong?”

“What! What?” Merry closed his eyes in shock at the jarring shaking, and reopened them with a clear gaze a moment later. “Pippin, what are you doing? Get off me, you giant goof.” He shoved himself away from the other hobbit with a grin. Pippin frowned back, concerned.

“Weren’t you just-”

“Everything alright you two?” Harry came up beside them, laying a hand on each of their shoulder.

“Of course,” Merry sang back. “Pippin’s just being a twit as usual.”

“Uh, sure. Everything’s fine, I guess,” Pippin slowly agreed. “But there was-”

“Perfect.” Harry clapped his hands and ushered the two towards Sam and Frodo, who had unsurprisingly drifted back together, and then directed them all back towards the center of the clearing. “I’ve got to have a little chat with the senior citizen over here, so off you go.”

“But Harry-”

“Yes, Pippin?”

He hesitated, his features tightened in conflict; Harry’s mind was already elsewhere and he missed it. “Never mind. It can wait.”  

Once the wizards were alone in their small corner, Harry sat down next to Gandalf on the fallen tree trunk and quietly cast a short-lived muting charm to keep the others from listening in. Now that he wasn’t distracted by the others, Harry could more keenly observe the similarities between his old mentor and Gandalf. They used to be close friends; it was obvious to him how it happened. He could picture the two old men having tea and lemon candies in the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts, reminiscing about old times and ignoring the banging on the door from the teachers demanding to be let in because it’s been a week already and they want to make sure Dumbledore hasn’t keeled over at his desk or choked on candies.

These thoughts circulating through his head, Harry found he couldn’t bring himself to continue looking at Gandalf while his brief reunion with his beloved, deceased mentor and the pain it brought was still so fresh. He decided to conduct his questioning staring into the dark woods as well.

“So when did you first sense me approaching. Five, ten leagues out? Why didn’t you warn the others of my survival?” Harry asked, testing his theory. There was a long pause before he received an answer. 

“I was certain I’d felt your presence extinguish at one point, a result I thought came from your death at the fire of the Balrog,” Gandalf eventually revealed. “A wizard can always tell when the balance of magic is disrupted. Or altered. That is why I was unable to reassure the others as I should have been; I wasn’t sure if what my mind claimed the truth to be was sincere, or merely the dangling threads of a false hope. I have omitted several responsibilities of mine over the past few days, and it seems you have suffered the worse due to my negligence. For this, I must apologize.”

Harry could sense Gandalf turning to face him, but he kept his body still and eyes straight. “No apology is necessary,” he assured. “I chose to stay behind, and any consequences that followed were of my own making. Speaking of which, if we collect Legolas, Boromir, and Strider, I would be more than happy to tell you about- Wait.” Harry frowned and glanced back at the group crowded in the center of the clearing. “Where’s Gimli?”   

“Ah, eh, yes. Well,” Gandalf cleared his throat. “I believe he went off to… relieve the burden on his bowels. This was quite a while before you arrived. I was starting to get concerned, actually.”

Harry nodded his head. “I see. Dwarves really are impressive creatures. I suppose we will- ah, wait, then?”

“That would be most wise.”

“Mhmm.” Harry waited another minute. “I feel it pertinent that you know, for wizardly reasons, that I once spent three whole days in the latrine. It was a record where I come from.”

“This, I’m afraid, is one area in which I have no competition, Black Wizard. You cannot beat an old man at this. Let us leave it at that.”

“Fair enough… So, have you ever ridden a broomstick before?”

A rustling from the woods in front of them and a short thick figure falling out of a particularly knotted bush broke off their conversation.

“Speak of the dwarf and he shall appear,” Harry mused under his breath, before saying louder, “Gimli, where did you run off to at this time of night? Gandalf and I have been worried sick about you!”

As per usual for the company, Gimli ignored Harry’s confusing words, but had stopped dead at the sight of him.

“Forest Spirit! You slippery cave eel, you are alive? This is grand news; we will need all the help we can get now that we’ve entered into the she-witch’s domain,” he yelled, resuming his march to grasp Harry in a hearty clasp.

He returned the sentiment briefly, then asked, “She-witch? What do you mean? I have walked these woods before and have never encountered such a creature.”

“Then you have been very fortunate,” a voice to their backs called out. Harry spun to see that Gimli’s return had garnered the attention of the other members; his charm had faded entirely now.

“I’ve heard strange rumors regarding this forest,” Boromir continued. “They say the trees that grow here are truly deceased elves who have returned to stand watch over unwelcomed trespassers, and the waters here flow with the blood of the witch’s victims. The Lothlórien forest is a cursed land.”

“They say? Who are ‘they’?” Harry asked. He knew from the guide that there was a clan of elves that called this forest home, but he’d never had conflict with them and had never heard of others clashing with them either during his travels.

Legolas dismissed the topic before Boromir could answer. “It is nothing more than the inane, ill-informed chatter among men that create such hearsay about my kind. The elves that reside in these woods are of a most noble breed.” He turned to Boromir. “I would ask you not continue with this disrespect any longer.”

He raised a brow, but nodded slightly in consent. “I meant not to bring up any acrimony between our races. I merely suggest that perhaps we not put all our faith into an unknown factor when so much is on the line. Do we know whether or not this elf and her kingdom may be trusted, or-”

“Of course she is not to be trusted!” Gimli shouted, hurling his axe into the forest floor. “She enters and sways the minds of those who tread upon her lands, like a puppet-mistress controlling her dolls. A manipulative witch, she is, and we cannot-”

“You will hold your tongue!” Gandalf roared. The sparkling embers in the fire pit extinguished entirely and the failing light from the sun seemed to become even less effective, plunging them into a darkness that was only illuminated by Gandalf’s power. “You shall cease with this mindless slander. Lady Galadriel is a dear friend of mine, and has been for far longer than you could wish to comprehend, you obstinate, stubborn, pig-headed dwarf! We are going through her land, and with any luck she will graciously offer her home, hidden deep in the wood from the northern border and shielded from evil, to us so we may recuperate from many consecutive days fighting in the mines. Have you forgotten that one of our own was just separated from us; Harry may very well need medical attention, or at least an extended rest, despite his assurances. Do you propose he can find this by wandering these lands, avoiding any hand offered in aid?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably as every set of eyes found their way to his half-hidden form, searching for non-existent traumas. He had taken a step back into the shadows once the light show started, so as to examine the occurrence from an outside perspective; after all, he had no idea what they were speaking of, so he felt no need to enter the conversation. It also gave him an opportunity to reflectively check his Occlumency; Gimli’s description of his “she-witch” sounded disturbingly like Legilimency magic, which didn’t bode well with him. But Gandalf hadn’t shown himself to be untrustworthy yet, and if this elf was his friend, then Harry wouldn’t make any assumptions based on her potential powers. Either way, she had to be better than Snape had been in his sixth year.

“Just fine over here, thanks. No fatalities hiding under my cloak, I assure you.” Harry shifted again and smile slightly when his previously-impaled knee twitched under him, assuring him that it was healed and wouldn’t make a liar of him. “Though as I said before, I must agree that a period of rest would be well-received. And some explanations; I’m entirely lost. She-witches, ladies in the forest- no clue.”

“Uh, yeah, me too,” Pippin spoke up. “Didn’t want to say anything but… I thought we were in a hurry. Ya know, evil living ring and all, deadlines to hit. We skip weeks of second breakfasts and luncheons and good old-fashion sleep, and now we’re stopping at an elf-village for a while. I’m not complaining, but… what?”

“If ya say that, then don’t complain,” Merry faux-whispered to Pippin. He beamed at the other solemn figures. “Lead us to the food.”

Gandalf had begun to ease back from his imposing stance after Harry’s input, and now he leaned back into his familiar staff-supported stoop, letting out a low chuckle. “Hobbits and their opportune wisdom. Well said, young Merry. Carry on towards the food.”

Everyone nodded, and Harry saw Gimli’s shoulders slouch from their stiffened condition. Not that he could blame him; Harry had been yelled at by enough bipolar, righteous wizards to know how unpleasant it was. Then again, he had also been that bipolar, righteous, yelling wizard enough times to understand where Gandalf was coming from.

“That would be for the best,” Aragorn agreed. Harry looked at him in surprise; he’d practically forgotten about him since he, too, had been watching the exchange without comment until the end. _Maybe one day he’ll make a good king, granted I can keep him alive. And he can keep himself alive. Right, that’s a main reason why I’m here. I really should figure out a way to keep a closer eye on Aragorn. Frodo and Aragorn both, actually. Where are you, Hedwig? I could really use another set of eyes._

“The night has passed us by and dawn will be upon us swiftly,” the Ranger continued. “I don’t believe anyone will be finding sleep easily now, so we should begin moving as soon as possible. The swifter we reach our destination, the swifter we can continue our journey.”

“Yes, let’s walk and talk,” Harry grinned, leaning back against a tree and twirling his wand in his hand while the rest quickly packed up their sparse campsite. “Prepare yourself, Legolas; its elfish story time.”

~ Later That Day ~

The Fellowship had kept up a tireless pace all day, and though trying, the future promise of food and a warm bed to sleep in encouraged spirits to remain high. Harry traveled at the rear of the group with the hobbits, still not feeling up to hanging around Gandalf for any extended period of time. Proximity led to talking, talking led to memories, and memories led to not very good things in Harry’s experience. Besides, Merry, Sam, and Frodo had been doing a decent enough job at keep the back portion entertaining, although Pippin was unusually quiet.

“So there we all were, Sam, Rosie, Sadie and I, just older than wee lasses and lads the each of us, when-”

“Frodo, stop it right there!” Sam cried, throwing his arms in the air to wave away the rest of the story. “I know exactly where you’re going with this, and let me say none of it happened like that. Honestly.”

“Oh?” Frodo nodded, his eyes widening in mock realization. “I see, so you never set your gaze so firmly on Rosie that when we were running through the dandy fields behind Aunt Dora’s that you tripped over the tiniest of pebbles straight into her-”

“It was a snaking tree root and my full attention was on the game, nothing else! Oh, quit your laughing, there’s nothing funny about it.”

“No there isn’t,” Harry agreed, sending a rebuking look at the giggling Frodo and Merry. “Shame on you two; an anecdote should never be used for enjoyment until it is completed. Frodo, Sam fell on her what?”

“You- you- Frodo, don’t you dare answer him!” Sam hid his alarmingly red face in his arms and threw his shoulder into Frodo’s.

The hobbit, with a hastily exhaled “whoosh” from the bump and laughing too hard, stumbled to catch himself from falling. Merry’s unsteady, shaking form then bounced into his, making his efforts useless as they both went flopping to the ground, just missing a patch of spider webs woven into the grass beneath a tree.

Harry snorted at their antics and looked ahead to see the others were continuing on, likely assuming they’d catch up in their own time.

“Come on then, up you two. I don’t want to be scolded for getting too behind. Now-” Harry cutoff. Frodo’s laughter had abruptly ended and his face was pale and frozen. A trembling hand reached up to grasp the gold band hanging from his neck.

“Mr. Frodo what’s wrong?” Sam asked before Harry could collect his thoughts.

Frodo’s hand flung itself away from the Ring as his gaze snapped to the three concerned and one curious pair of eyes staring back at him. “It was- nothing to do with- there was a voice.”

Tensing in alarm, Harry prompted, “A voice?”

“There _is_ a voice in my mind. Still there. Still talking,” he trailed off. Harry internally cursed himself for allowing the members in their group more knowledgeable about the Ring to wander ahead and was about to call out for them when Frodo continued. “She doesn’t sound mad, exactly, just… worried. For her people. And for me, I think.”

“She?” Harry partially relaxed. Probably not Sauron or Saruman, then, but… Gimli’s she-witch, perhaps? It would make sense for her to contact one of them if they were approaching her borders, but why not Gandalf? “What did she say, Frodo?”

“I…” Frodo trailed off, then swallowed harshly. “I’m not sure. Let’s just keep going.”

_“There is great danger in your group, and not all of it is carried with the young hobbit. Why can I not see who- what- you are?”_

Harry choked back an expletive at the sudden arrival of a clear, feminine speaker in his mind and immediately snapped his barriers into place, throwing out the presence without preamble. A startled gasp was cut off, and then once more silence reigned outside of his own thoughts in his mind.

“-arry, Harry what’s wrong?” Merry’s frantic tone caught his attention and he realized the hobbit was practically bouncing up and down in front of him trying to look into his eyes and catch his attention. “Is there something in the woods, or, or- we need to catch up with the others now!”

While Sam and Pippin also seemed concerned, Frodo simply looked back at Harry with unfocused eyes. “You heard her too?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded slowly. “I suppose I did. Acted a bit discourteous, to be honest, but she really should’ve knocked first. I tend to panic just a little when uninvited guests trapeze into my mind. I suppose I’ll apologize later. As long as she does too.”

Frodo smiled slightly at that, but Harry had already turned to answer Merry’s question and was quietly drawing his sword from its sheath. “And yes, there is something in the woods. Many somethings, probably with pointy ears and pointy arrows and pointy personalities. We just had to seek refuge on elf land, didn’t we?”

The hobbits blinked at him, half alarmed, half not understanding.

“What do you- oh, oh, I feel the pointy arrow. Harry!” Merry cried out. A troop of elves all with arrows notched on drawn bows had stepped out of the shadows of the trees and surrounded the small party. A tall, blonde elf, whom going by his dress and attitude Harry assumed stood as the commanding officer, or whatever the equivalent elven title was, walked up to Harry.

“Now, now,” Harry placated, dangling his sword loosely between his middle and index fingers in as nonthreatening a way as he could muster while arrows were practically pressed against his friends’ cheeks. The one resting against his own spine raised no such worry, but he wasn’t certain he could protect all four hobbits in this position if things went wonky. “I see no reason for weapons to be pointed at anyone but the guy with a sword. And even then, I’m a fairly friendly guy.”

“Most can’t sense our company when we don’t wish them to; this was such a case, and yet you picked us out before we even made a move,” the elf murmured, cocking his head to study Harry in a way that reminded him a lot of Hedwig’s similar habit. “I find it disconcerting.”     

“Yes,” he agreed readily, “I would as well. This really sounds like something of which you should discuss at length with Gandalf over hot cocoa and cakes. Speaking of which, he was just ahead of us, and should be coming around any second. Do elves drink hot cocoa? You should. Chocolate makes everything better,” Harry stalled, gazing into the bundle of trees he was hoping the remainder of the Fellowship would reappear from at any convenient moment now. The last thing he wanted to do was start up conflict with the elves they were supposed to be seeking refuge from. _Next time we should RSVP._

“You claim to travel in the presence of a wizard? Impossible,” the leader dismissed. “If anyone had passed by before you, we would have seen and tailed them as well. Wanderers aren’t welcomed here; you’ll have to leave. Immediately.”

“Uh, do you want to rethink your definition of impossible?” Harry asked, finally seeing what he had been hoping for.

The blond elf frowned at him. “Impossible,” he repeated. “Unless-”

“Unless a very old friend was escorting said group and, by force of habit, took a long-ago carefully mapped-out path that thoroughly bypassed every guard post and realized too late that half of his group was lagging behind and had probably been caught by said guards,” Gandalf concluded as he shuffled his way through the surprised elves to stand beside Harry. “Indeed, Haldir, that is the only explanation I can think of.” He turned and looked up slightly so he was eye-to-eye with the other wizard. “Learn to keep up, Black Wizard.”

Harry smirked. “Learn to cater to the vertically-disadvantaged, or think twice about bringing hobbits along on a quest next time, Greying Wizard.”

 _“Mithrandir, my heart sings to see thee once more in good health and fortune. But, what brings you here unheralded, and in the company of dwarves, men, and… others,”_ Haldir asked Gandalf, towards the end sending a suspicious glance at Harry, who had taken to occasionally staring vacantly at the treetops to keep from seeming engaged in a conversation he wasn’t supposed to understand. The elf noticed Legolas as he came to stand beside Gandalf and Harry in tandem with the rest of the Fellowship. _“Well met, Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm.”_

 _“Well met, Haldir, Guard of Lórien,”_ was the dutiful response.

“Speak in a tongue we can all understand or I’ll remove your tongue altogether!” Gimli growled lowly. Harry sighed as Haldir only replied with a condescending upturn of the lips and promptly sidestepped Strider and Merry to nudge the dwarf’s shoulders lightly in warning and whisper to him.

“The angrier you get at no provocation, the more satisfied you make him. I know elves tend not to admire dwarves all that much- a lot of them dislike me on a foundationless principle too- but in this case, you need to be the bigger creature. I bet being overly nice will freak him out more than seeing Saruman in a pink tutu. Or a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”

Gimli grumbled softly to himself before looking back up at the grey cloaked elves. “Vemu, Khulum (Greetings, Elf).”

Gandalf cleared his throat and leaned forward on his staff, tipping his head down, Harry unwillingly noted, in a similar manner to Dumbledore when he was wasting time to either build up suspense or think up an excuse, depending on the day. “Ah, yes, this was something of a spontaneous visit of which resulted from something of a spontaneous change of plans in our already otherwise poorly organized travel plans. Yet, our arrival hasn’t been entirely unannounced; I have been in contact with Lady Galadriel, or better stated, she has been in contact with me, as well as a few of my companions. She knows why we have come. I’m sure you have heard of our quest as well by now,” he added in a far graver tone.

Haldir stared at them in steely resolve for several moments, which gradually morphed into slight reverence, mild annoyance, and finally complete acceptance.

“Follow me,” he beckoned the group of travelers. “The Lady wishes to see all of you. Even… all of you.”

“Well,” Harry hummed, staring off after the departing elves, “isn’t that just enough to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Hey, Gandalf?”

“Yes?”

“Does your lady friend have a penchant for holding grudges?”

 


	14. Truth behind Altered Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by the expeditious KaribookWorm.

With no small amount of persuading from Gandalf and Legolas and a couple spastic bouts of self-proclaimed puppy-eyes from Harry that ultimately proved counterproductive, especially when Pippin, Merry, and even a growingly suspicious Gimli were convinced to join him, the elves agreed to lead the Fellowship directly to the heart of Lórien. There they would meet Galadriel. Harry suspected the Lady’s clairvoyant message to the elven guard was the true reason for Haldir’s acceptance to veer from their long-held custom of blindfolding their guests, spinning them around three hundred times, and sprinkling fairy dust on them, or whatever it was these elves did to uphold secrecy. Either way, he was glad to bypass the dull ritual and be on their way. Although, it did give him more time to ponder the possible scenarios awaiting him.

Gandalf’s startled “erm, _well_ ” and the several following little coughs and throat clears to Harry’s question about Galadriel and her temperament before he proceeded to ignore the question’s existence entirely did nothing to settle his worries. Still, Harry was half sure Gandalf was just messing with him in retaliation for his crude fecal joke. But only half.

“Keep up, son of man,” the elven guard called out to Harry, who was once more rounding off the rear end of the group, not counting the elves stalking eerily silent through the trees just behind them.

“See,” Harry whispered to Gimli, who was trudging along beside him, struggling to keep pace with the elves’ long strides while acting like he was slowing down for them. “Baseless hatred is all I get from these elves.”

“I believe your face annoys them,” was the kindly grunted reply.      

**_< Yea, son of man, keep it moving. We sons of dragons need a proper place to slumber, and your bony shoulders aren’t ideal,> _**Manny treasonously agreed.

Harry happily took his mind off the elf-witch they were traveling to meet and bantered with his snake. **_< Sons of dragons? Pfft, more like daughters of crocodiles. You’re constantly PMSing and I know how much you love the water.>_**

**_< … Not okay, Harry. My great-uncle was eaten by a crocodile.> _**Manny slid from Harry’s hood and into the internally-expanded pack slung across his back.

_Well, that was a short conversation._

His hopes of pleasant conversation crushed, Harry continued the rest of the journey in silence, content to practice his occlumency while his body followed beside Gimli. When he was next broken from of his trance, it was to Haldir announcing they had arrived at Caras Galadhon, the main city of Lórien where they would be presently meeting with the rulers before being shown to their accommodations.

Harry blinked himself alert and found that he had ended up between Gandalf and Strider. “Rulers? As in plural; multiple beings? I thought this land was claimed by a single she-witch-elf.” He ignored the narrowed eyes he received from every elf in the vicinity and turned his head to Strider, who he trusted to give less biased information than certain old wizards who couldn’t answer questions properly.

“Lady Galadriel rules Lothlórien together with her husband, Lord Celeborn,” the Ranger replied simply.

“Ah,” Harry pondered aloud, “A happily married couple, then?”

“For many centuries, I am to believe.”

“How lovely. I’ve only met elves that seem to be stricken with the worst sort of sexual frustration- I’m not referring to anyone in particular, of course-, so this ought to prove a nice change, maybe even an educational experience.”

Strider gave no reply to that. Harry hadn’t been expecting one, but the lack of response was satisfying nonetheless.        

Haldir and the rest of the elves of Lothlórien broke away and Gandalf took over leading the group as they neared the great hall. Harry used this chance to study the place they would be seeking refuge. The elven city was a magnificent spectacle; the buildings appeared to be made of some alloy while also merging with the powerful trees that housed them, as though crafted from the same wood. There was a majestic grace to the forest, similar to Rivendell, but at the same time so different. The natural light of the declining sun was largely blocked by the towering trees, and yet the city glowed. Perhaps it was because the city was so close, closer than he’d been in months, to his home in the Forest of Fangorn that Harry felt himself start to relax. He walked beside Strider up the stone staircase and through dangling vines spotted with blue buds.

Once the group crested the stairs and Gandalf called them to a halt, Harry remembered why he was supposed to be nervous. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn stood from their woven thrones when the Fellowship came into their sight and descended from an elevated platform. The Lady was the first to greet them, approaching Gandalf with a serene smile and beckoning arms.   

“Dearest friend, it warms the heart to see you well before me this day,” Galadriel sighed as she embraced the wizard. Gandalf seemed mildly surprised by the publicly affectionate greeting, but wrapped his own arms around her in kind. “I know not why, but I feared you would not enter my lands with the company, and your appearance now unburdens me of these troubled thoughts.”

“My Lady, nothing could keep me away,” Gandalf assured her as he pulled away. Despite his affirming words, a shadow crossed his face, one that fled after darkening his brow for only a moment.

Galadriel stepped back and gazed at each member of the Fellowship in turn until they met her blue eyes- eyes that pierced their souls explored their desires, and left without passing judgement, for it wasn’t her place at this time. When she turned to the last man in the row, Harry, she didn’t have to wait at all, for his gaze had been set on her since he first saw her.

The Lady of Lórien was a beautiful woman with timeless features and an eternal glow that was brighter than any other elf he’d met. But it was neither her beauty nor her power that drew Harry; it was her wise eyes that spoke of a world only she was privy to, only she understood. They were Luna’s eyes, and Harry could see his old friend before the magic and life had been drained from her in the elf before him so clearly that when the nudge came tapping at his mental walls, he allowed access, his earlier caution mostly abandoned. He allowed her to view the last day, the trip to Lothlórien, Merry’s vacant eyes, the Balrog, the snowstorm and avalanche, leaving Rivendell, and an image of Luna. Then he stopped the reel and took back control, effortlessly now that he was prepared, bringing them to a blank room in his mind where Galadriel could find out no more about him, but still act as a guest if she wished.  

The two faced each other in silence, then Harry could feel her pulling out and he was looking into her eyes again instead of an incorporeal form.

She whispered in his mind, _“Thank you for saving him. You may have done it unknowingly, but thank you. You have greatly altered the fate of this Fellowship, Harry Potter, though if for better or for worse has yet to be seen.”_      

Galadriel turned away from Harry and back to Gandalf. Their encounter had lasted no longer than the others. With no extra attention brought on him Harry allowed himself the luxury of studying his fellow travelers and the effects the Lady had on them while pondering the odd gratitude he had received in anonymity. Boromir looked like he was about to either hurl or cry.

“What is it you seek here, Gandalf the Gray?”

Gandalf dipped his head humbly in acknowledgement of the question. “We have come to ask for sanctuary, for in the midst of our travels we have found ourselves in need of a respite.”

“But that is not all.” Galadriel turned to Frodo. “You carry a great burden with you, young one. Greater than any else present. What is it you seek here?”

Frodo seemed unsurprised at the question; it wasn’t hard to guess that she had already brought the subject up during their mind chat. After a shared glance with Sam, he assured, “at this time, we seek only shelter and rest.”

“And of course,” Galadriel assured with a benevolent tilt of her lips, “Given my husband’s permission, we shall grant your request.”       

Celeborn took his cue, stepping forward beside his wife and scanning the Fellowship as she had, his eyes coming to rest on Harry. The new scrutiny caught the younger wizard’s attention. “Ten there are here, yet nine set out. Where did this addition hail from?”

“He came across part of our party in the town of Bree, and agreed to join us at Rivendell, albeit as an unofficial member. With a sword he is adept, and along with other talents he has proven useful in our journey,” Gandalf swiftly supplied before Harry could give his unhelpful answer of ‘Little Whinging’. Overall, Harry accepted Gandalf’s as the better reply and returned to his silent contemplations, keeping half his mind on the conversation between Istari and King. He’d have no further part to play until he could speak with either Galadriel or Gandalf one on one.

“Very well,” Celeborn accepted. “Then let us get to the heart of the matter.”

“Yes, let’s.”

The two elders conversed; goals for the Fellowship were discussed, nothing was guaranteed beyond a few days, little more was suggested, and temporary arrangements were made. When the negotiations between Gandalf and Celeborn had concluded, and before Harry could make a move, the Lady whisked Gandalf out of the room for a private interview, the Lord elf following behind at a languid walk.

“Ah,” Harry sighed, seeing them walk out of view. A conference with either of them would have to be delayed, then. “So,” he turned towards his eight companions, the only other occupants of the throne room since the non-Legolas elves had all spontaneously disappeared, “Anyone hungry?”

“I believe I heard mention of an awaiting meal in the gardens,” Strider offered after a general murmur of yes’s arose.   

“If there is free food there,” Harry worked out slowly, “Then why are we still here?”

Pippin nodded. “Seconded.” He waited expectantly, then nudged Merry, who started.

“What?”

“Food, Merry.”

“Fourthed!”

Harry nodded. “That’s not a word and we were going for three, but good enough. Let’s go! And Pippin,” he pulled the hobbit to the side as the others began traveling back down the staircase. “Can you keep an eye on Merry? He seems a bit… absent. I don’t know if he’s usually like that, but, you know, strangers in a strange land; you can never be too careful.”

“He is definitely off.” Pippin frowned. “I’ve noticed it for a while, and I can’t quite figure out what it is. He’s still Merry, but there’s just something… missing,” he finished uncertainly. “It could be the stress of the whole trip getting to him, or to me. Not like it has been a vacation or anything.”

“Bloody right it hasn’t. It’s probably nothing, but a healthy dosage of paranoia never hurts. Well, unless you’re in a relationship; then it just gets you slapped. Or sometime… Anyway, Constant Vigilance.”  

The two caught up with the rest of the party and arrived in a tranquil patio garden branching off of what must have been a kitchen. There were nuts, fruits, vegetables, fish, and mead spread out liberally on the tables. Before an hour passed the entire group had been mellowed by ale and were swapping stories to such a personal degree Harry was beginning to regret asking the elves for a second barrel of alcohol to be brought out.

“And then,” Gimli continued, “In the wee hours of the morning, my brethren and I’d make swift out of the gates, past the patrol, to the lakes, disrobe, and—”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Harry declared when Gimli began to reenact his tale.

“Agreed,” Boromir slurred, standing unsteady from his chair along with Harry. “I have no further wish to see any of _that_. Now… where are we to go?”

As if signaled, two elves appeared and offered to show Harry and Boromir to their rooms. They parted from the rest and followed their guides down the winding paths through the enchanting forest. Harry didn’t pay too much mind when Boromir and his elf split away down a different hall, but it was impossible to ignore when his own guide vanished. Though the guard was hidden from his view, Harry felt his footsteps on the grass veer away behind a stone arc to his right, and two more sets approaching him from behind to the left. Easily guessing who the footsteps belonged to, Harry stared despondently at the empty space in front of him for a second longer before turning around to greet his hostess and the greyed wizard, the two he had wanted to talk to, though preferably on separate occasions.

“An ambush? Against a wasted young man? That’s low, Gandalf.”

Gandalf smiled benignly, coming into view. “Why, yes. Yes it is, I suppose. Ha.”

“We had no such intentions, Black Wizard,” Galadriel soothed gently as they stopped in front of Harry. They were in an open hall with pillars of white stone wrapped in glowing flowers that offered light on either side. Plenty of escape routes, then.

Harry snorted. “You’ve been speaking with the old man too much, my Lady. I do go by Harry, as you noted earlier during our chat, and I’d be honored if you’d call me such.”

“You are correct in your assumption, Harry; Gandalf and I have been discussing at length these past few hours. And one topic that has come up is you. What he has observed, and what I have summarized from your memories.”

“Oh?” Harry asked in genuine surprise. He didn’t think he revealed anything vital, and nothing from before he arrived in Middle Earth besides Luna. “And what has caught your attention?”

“Your ring.”

“Ah, yes? What about?” _Shite. Forgot about the Hallows. This conversation could be beneficial, though. It’s about time I figured out the connection between the One Ring and mine, or if there is any at all._

Galadriel dropped her gaze to where Harry’s hands rested in his pockets, the Resurrection Stone sitting innocently on his finger out of view. After a moment she met his eyes again.

“I would like to show you something. Please, follow me.” 

The Lady led Harry farther into the kingdom, Gandalf at her side. They entered a structure more heavily guarded than the others, and after passing down many flights of stairs they eventually reached a fairly spacious room with walls decorated in elegant drapes despite the lack of windows. There were many tables and a large desk spread throughout the space, each covered neatly in a variety of knickknacks, some moving jollily on their own and others still in a threatening _don’t touch me or you’ll regret it when your fingers burn off_ sort of way. It wasn’t exactly the type of place Harry was expecting he’d be led to. Once he stepped through the threshold, Galadriel closed the heavy door behind him and Harry could feel the impact as the room was cut off from the outside flow entirely, including magically. At her urging, Harry took a seat while Gandalf leaned against the door. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be leaving for a while.

“This is my private study, one in which we will not be disturbed. And this,” she pulled a chain off her neck to reveal the intricately designed white ring hanging from it, “Is Nenya, one of three rings gifted to the elves by Sauron.”

“Heavens above, there are _more_ of them?” Harry cursed before he could stop himself. He remembered Strider mentioning other, weaker rings that had been made, but he’d hoped after the devastation they’d caused the first go around someone would have had to good sense to destroy the weapons. Then, taking a closer look, he realized that this ring, while also carrying a weight of power, was nothing like the one Frodo carried with him. When Harry breathed around the One Ring, he felt like the very air was gravel grinding in his teeth, and his next exhale would come with a mouthful of blood and flesh torn from his mouth. This one, Nenya… he sensed no hostility whatsoever, and only felt trace residue of the evil that clung gathered in a heavy cloud around Sauron’s.

Galadriel nodded. “Nineteen Rings of Power were made alongside the One Ring. They were meant to be tools of Sauron towards the purpose of reining the leaders of men, dwarves, and elves under his sway.”

“Sounds like a present I would definitely keep around my neck.”

“His plan, however, didn’t work on the elves,” she continued without pause, “As we saw through his intent as soon as he put on his own ring. Since he fell and the One Ring was lost, I and the other keepers, Elrond and Círdan, have repurposed the power of our rings towards protecting our lands and ensuring peace.”         

“But now Sauron is back and the One Ring is enjoying a drinking party not too far away. His return presents a serious problem,” Harry summarized. A tingling sensation caught his attention, and he looked down in surprise to see that he had been twisting the Gaunt Ring on his finger. He froze his movements when Galadriel smiled in quiet resignation at him.

“I had previously worn Nenya as you do yours; proudly on display, for despite its origins, it gives me the power I need to keep my people safe and my kingdom thriving. But during the war, Sauron utilized the rings to see through the eyes of their holders and influence their actions. Since his return, I’ve taken caution in how and when I use Nenya, and even still I can feel my power wavering while Sauron’s armies grow ever stronger. What you’re a part of, the quest to destroy the One Ring, will do more than decrease Sauron’s power. With his ring gone, Sauron will be no more, his armies will fall to ruin, and the upcoming war threatening to tear our world apart will end.”

“I’m sure,” Harry stated slowly as he considered her words, “That your speech would be far more effective on Frodo, and you no doubt plan to give it to him in order to steel his resolve. No judgement there. But what is it you want from me? I hold not the Ring, and I’ve already pledge my services to the Fellowship. I’ve heard most of this information before as well.”

“We were hoping,” Gandalf spoke for the first time, “That your past could provide a fresh outlook, perhaps even a new solution. Besides, this is a conversation we’ve put off too long.”

Harry hummed in agreement, keeping his eyes on Nenya. “I was wondering when you’d bring that up. Can’t skate it forever, I suppose. If it's story time, why don’t we all get comfortable?”

Once he managed to convince Galadriel and Gandalf to take a seat with him, Harry began to recount his tale all the way through for the first time since he’d been dropped into Middle Earth. He did his best to stay impersonal in front of Galadriel, only stating the facts of his Wizarding World and the lack of integration with the rest of humanity. He glossed over a lot of his time at Hogwarts- he didn’t once turn to Gandalf during his speech with Dumbledore’s image too close to the surface- and skipped his childhood almost entirely. It wasn’t until he reached Voldemort and the Horcruxes that he delved into detail, restating every bit he could remember being told or reading about. Galadriel seem especially disturbed when he told her of the process behind making a Horcrux: the splitting of a soul requires the sacrifice of a soul.  

He could reveal a more detailed version of his own life with Gandalf at a later date. And maybe the other members of the Fellowship as well, one day.   

“Fascinating,” Galadriel breathed when he’d concluded. “A whole other world with humans, Istari, dwarves, and elves, one we would have never known of if not for you. What this could entail… the possibilities it suggests… The Valar truly work in mysterious ways.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed drily. “I’ve had a lot of time to think on that. Way I’d guess it, there are a certain number of all-powerful beings, and they monkey about the universe creating new planes to their whimsy, establishing themselves as gods and creators as they go for the heck of it. My Death is the same as your Mandos, and from what I’ve heard your Valar fit fairly close with my world’s mythology of the Olympians. However, we haven’t gathered to talk on the secrets of existence, fun as it may be.”

Galadriel nodded slowly. “Of course. So you believe these ‘Horcruxes’ may be related to Sauron’s creation of the Ring? He’s undeniably taken ample life for the sacrifice,” she added grimly.

“I’d bet on it, if I ever get that salary. But it doesn’t bring any new information to the table. As long as the Ring is still around, Sauron can’t be killed permanently; we know that. It was a bit easier to destroy the Horcruxes in my experience- no volcano in the middle of Voldemort’s empire required- but Elrond made it clear there was no other way. Would have fiendfyred the blasted ring otherwise. And there is little chance they’re exactly the same anyway since Sauron wouldn’t even know about Horcruxes and their use; his One Ring is probably some bastardized version he unintentionally created by injecting part of his soul into it in a bid for more power. Sorry.”

“No apology necessary,” Galadriel assured, slowly rising from her seat and walking over to a white glass orb on the wood desk. She caressed it softly for several moments, then turned back to Harry.

“Many thanks for your assistance and cooperation. Even if it yielded nothing useful in regards to the present situation, you’ve given me much to ponder on during a later time.”

“If we all survive and the world doesn’t go _‘splat’_ into a windshield of death, you mean?”

That got the first genuinely amused smile Harry had seen out of Galadriel. “I am unfamiliar with the analogy, but I concur with the general concept, yes.”

~ Three Days Later ~

The Fellowship was granted the rest they so desperately needed over the following days and all were content, excluding Harry when he was manhandled into a thorough examination by the elven healers- no doubt, he kept muttering, at Gandalf’s plotting.   

Currently, Harry was placed on the ledge of an overhanging roof sheltering a porch beneath it, one of many such structures that littered the civilization. Sam, Merry, and Pippin were playing with the horses in the elves’ stable within view of him in the dimming dusk, and they were providing a suitable source of entertainment since ‘playing’ was a term loosely employed to describing their complete failure at getting the horses to so much as acknowledge them. The horsemen guarding the stables were also less than helpful in the hobbits’ endeavor- and just what that was, Harry had yet to figure out- but were adding to the overall comedy for observers, so he abstained from interfering.

“Enjoying the spectacle, Black Wizard?”      

“It’s a tragic comedy, I believe,” Harry answered immediately. “They want the horses to engage with them, but they won’t, then half the cast dies, but it’s alright because in the end we learn the horses were jerks anyway and Pippin adopts an orphaned bunny.”

“Classic.” Gandalf sank down on his haunches next to Harry, who was laid out stomach-down with his head sticking out over the brink to achieve maximum visual on the scene below. “Should we not offer the hobbits assistance out of the predicament they’ve landed themselves into?”

“Feel free to participate. I prefer to watch.”

Rather than the comment on his poorly executed, weak innuendo or the painful continuation of the matter that Harry was expecting, Gandalf asked, “Do you hate me?”

Harry blinked in surprise as one of the horses finally gave into Merry’s persistence and aimed a harsh bite at his hand. The other hobbits’ voices rose in protest, but the guards appeared unmoved. “Pardon?”

“Apologies. That was a poor choice of words. I meant, do you distrust me now?”

Harry felt no closer to comprehending Gandalf’s meaning. “… Pardon? Distrust you? Do I have reason to?”

“There is no need for you to attempt to spare my feelings. You haven’t been able to stand the sight of me for days; even now you don’t look at me. And I can’t blame you. The Balrog was my responsibility, my burden, and yet it fell to you to face his wrath. I left you in the mines, and for that I will never forgive myself.”

_That clears things up a bit, I suppose. But why is he bringing this business up now?_

Harry craned his head up to stare pointedly at Gandalf. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I disagree with the principle. You forced nothing on me; the bridge fractured at an inopportune time and I had to improvise. No fault lies with you. Besides, all ended well. I escaped without serious injury, the Balrog is very much dead, and Manny learned a valuable life lesson about personal space. I’ve been ignoring you, yes, but I haven’t spent much time with the others either and have sought the companionship of myself only. Frankly, there are some personal problems I’ve to deal with that, I admit with shame, have been influencing my actions.”

“Be that as it may-” Gandalf abruptly cut off. “… You slew the Balrog?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t ask him for a lift across the chasm.”  

“That… changes the situation,” Gandalf said. He was obviously disconcerted, and Harry was unaccustomed to the older wizard revealing conflict so visually. Then he relaxed, wrinkles settling back into soft ripples of his skin rather than barriers preparing for an impending battle. “Fate will play herself out as she sees fit. We are powerless to sway her, at least in this.”

“What is ‘this’, exactly?”

Gandalf answered the question with one of his own.

“How do you always sense me coming?”

“How do you manage to keep your beard so clean during weeks of sustained travel on the road?”

“Magic.”

“Magic.”

Harry felt a familiar ease settle over him as he and Gandalf shared a grin, and he pushed himself up in preparation to stand when a scream reached his ears. Bolting up, and nearly falling off the roof as a result, Harry searched for the source with all of his senses. His physical perception failed him, but his magic easily identified the freshly made void within the boundaries of Lothlórien. He paled once he realized the implications of what he sensed, and stopped moving entirely when he accepted that he shouldn’t have the ability to know this at all. Hearing the voices of the long dead he could handle, maybe even grow to appreciate; this was a different story.

“What is wrong?” Gandalf demanded when he remained frozen for several seconds. “Harry?”

“Somebody just died.”

Then the first scream audible to those besides the Master of Death echoed through the forest.

Harry was on the ground and sprinting within the moment, overtaking the elven horsemen who mount and rode towards the sound as well. He could hear Gandalf following close behind, but he wasted no time in wondering how those old bones could keep up with him. As trees and buildings became a solid blurred wall on either side of him, Harry started picking up clear noises of fighting ahead.

He drew his wand and cast a shielding charm as a precaution when he recognized he was approaching the outskirts of the kingdom, and was rewarded with a precisely thrown axe that would have cleaved his forehead in two from directly in front of him. In the murky darkness, it was difficult to pick out his enemies as they moved like shadows; he aimed a severing charm at a movement in the corner of his eyes, and took off a branch rather than an arm. Taking a moment to focus and regroup his thoughts, Harry glanced around. Catching sight of a shadowy figure, he trained his eyes on it: graceful and slim, but too stretched out, with arms that nearly reached the knees and its entire length easily seven feet. Not a man then, neither dwarf nor hobbit, elves wouldn’t attack Galadriel’s domain, and the shape was wrong for a goblin or orc. But whatever they were, they appeared to be proving effective against Lothlórien’s quickly amassed defense. They were stalled away from the civilians for now, but had already managed to breach the borders without raising alarm, a feat on its own.    

Dodging an arrow that came from above, slipping by his shield, Harry decided to shine some light on the situation.   

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

The shining stag burst out of his wand and dashed forward without preamble, lighting up the forest with its brilliance. This elicited a startled cry as a creature fell from the trees over Harry, and he was forced to jump back to avoid the plummeting mass. It withered on the ground before him, screeching as it threw its forearms over its eyes and tried to bury its head in the dirt simultaneously. With a jolt, Harry realized his earlier assumption was wrong; they were orcs. Faster, stealthier, and probably cleverer orcs based on their movements in the woods compared to Harry’s experience with the usual breed in an open field of combat, but sporting the same misshapen features and heavily scarred flesh.  

Looking up, he saw creatures of the same ilk that had been previously battling the elves, as well as the warriors of the Fellowship at this point, also falling to the ground in pain, shielding themselves from the light. However, as swords, arrows and axes descended upon distorted flesh in what should have been a swift victory with their distraction, a lack of black blood flowed. The elves continued to hack at the creatures’ backs and upper arms, but to no avail. After a solid minute of useless battering that left no mark upon the gruesome figures, the orcs seemed get ahold of themselves and rose from the ground, using their pain from the light to drive their strength to higher levels.

“Harry!” He spun around to see Strider fending off a swarm of the beasts with Legolas, who had abandoned his bow in favor of twin daggers, at his back. “They cannot be cut by steel; our blades may as well be slicing at stone.”

“What luck,” Harry remark, canceling his now ineffective patronus and raising his wand to the crowd as several orcs broke off to go after him. “I just happen to forget my sword today. _Expulso_.”  

With his own rage driving the spell, the helmet he’d aimed at imploded into a fifth of its size, crushing the head of the orc it was meant to be protecting. It dropped to the ground, unmoving. Satisfied with his success, Harry merrily aimed the spell at every creature with a helmet he could spot, then proceeded on to chest plates. However, very few were wearing armor, likely due to their impenetrable hides, so Harry moved through his repertoire of curses and charms that didn’t require breaking flesh to be deadly.

“Forget poking at them,” Harry advised Strider once he finished off the cluster surrounding them. “Either find something to bludgeon them with, or search for Galadriel. Magic seems to be most effective against them, and she, Gandalf and I are the only magic-users I’m aware of close enough to help.”

“Yes,” Strider agreed, staring down at the bodies in various stages of dismantlement on the forest floor. “Very effective. I will stay and fight.”

Legolas nodded, stepping over a halved body towards them. “Then I shall seek Galadriel. I worry that she has taken so long to join us already.”       

“I’ll join Gimli in his battle,” Strider gestured to where the dwarf was engaged with a line of orcs from his place atop a bolder, two creature coming at him for every one he batted away with his axe. “Then we will attempt to locate Boromir.”

“Perfect. I think I’ll take a walk. Admire the sights,” Harry agreed readily, anxious to return to his slaughter and end the fight. The first death had inaugurated a flood of loses as warriors fell to the enhanced orcs. Harry hadn’t kept count, but he estimated at least ten elves lost. Galadriel would not be pleased.

The battle continued; Harry weaved a tangled path as he took down every one of the creatures he could find, dealing far more damage than the deep cuts he received from stray hits. He got brief glimpses of Gimli and Strider, and eventually Boromir when they found each other, and helped them out with a spell or two before he was drawn away to a more densely populated area. These orcs were smarter than others of their kind, and mostly spread themselves out in the tighter spaces, but they were still functioning loosely as pack creatures. Harry used that fact to his advantage. At one point, he passed over the summit of a depression to see a sword, flail, and spear pierce the battered body of an elf below at the same instance, killing her immediately. The sharp ache in his chest and the cries in his head drove Harry into a mindset he hadn’t occupied since before the bomb ended Voldemort’s war so many years ago.

A hissed _“Evanesco”_ vanished the three orcs from existence.  

Harry was eventually driven from his red haze by a strong voice, one he recognized, with relief, as belonging to Galadriel.

_“Enough. Cease.”_ A blast of pure white power bathed the battleground in its light; no shadow survived in its wake, the planes that make up sight washing away in a moment that blinded all save the caster.

The moment passed, and Harry was left blinking rapidly to dispel the lingering blackness in his vision. Once it cleared, he was unsurprised to see Galadriel standing tall in a flowing gown, her crown the only hint of armor adorning her body, with her hand raised to reveal Nenya as the source of the power. The orcs were all strewed on the ground, showing no signs of regaining consciousness like the few elves who’d been knocked out as well. Harry grinned; that was one way to obliterate an army suffering from a susceptibility to light. _I wish the Resurrection Stone was half that cool._

Fighting completed, Harry turned his attention towards finding the rest of the Fellowship. Gliding through the land unseen, he silently found Strider, Gimli and Boromir conferring with Legolas in the middle of a bloody field, all keeping an eye over their shoulders. Frodo had met up with the other hobbits, and all were safe in the care of the trio of guards assigned to the ring bearer after their arrival. Nearly all of his friends accounted for, Harry allowed himself to relax and seek out Galadriel to figure out how a pack of new and improved orcs found their way onto her lands, her supposedly super-protected safe haven.

“Brilliant work with the ring,” Harry commented, approaching the Lady after she had the chance to speak with several of the elvish warriors, probably about damage and death estimates by the grim set of her jaw. “Certainly blows Gandalf and me out of the water, at the very least. I want to have a death ray setting on my ring.”

Galadriel’s face grew tenser, and she asked lowly, “Gandalf? Did you keep account of his movements, where he has gone?”

Harry frowned. “Not since before I heard of the breach. We were together by the stables, and he followed me until we came across the first orc at least, but I know not of his activities after that. Why?”

“I have not yet had communications with him, post-battle. I seek his council, but he isn’t to be found; none of my chiefs have seen him erect, nor among the legions of the prone dead or injured.”    

Harry felt a sense of dread, but forced himself to ask, “What does that mean?”

Galadriel gazed at Harry blankly rather than answering. “You have an arrow in your shoulder.”

“Do you not know where Gandalf is? Whether he is alive?”

“I do not,” Galadriel was forced to admit. “But-”

“Do you have everything under control here?” Harry impatiently interrupted.

“The beasts are largely dead, and those who aren’t will be bound before they awakened. We-”

“Good enough. I’ll be back soon.” Harry apparated away to a deserted field outside of Lothlórien. If he was going to find out what happened to Gandalf, he had to pull on all of his connections; and, despite his trepidation, he had one reliable way of discovering whether or not Gandalf had survived the battle.

“Mandos!” Harry cried out into the metallic-scented wind. “Death! Whatever you go by! I’m officially summoning you, so haul over.”

“Manners, Master, are crucial in negotiation. Such an unwelcoming summons would put off most of eminence like myself.”

“Did you take him?”

“Look at me when you ask a favor, Master.”

“Did you take him!” Harry roared as he swung around to face the fleshed entity. “Is Gandalf… is he dead?”

“I did not have a hand in his disappearance. But you’re right in one aspect,” Mandos offered, leaning forward on his cane with both hands, as if about to share some momentous secret. “He’s not here.”

“I bloody know that! Where is he?”

“…”

“… Please. Servant.”

“I can’t be sure for I can no longer see his fate. I suspect, though, he is in the hands of Eru Ilúvatar.”

Harry had heard that name before, in one of the many stories Legolas fancied telling during their travels. “Eru… as in the Creator of Middle Earth?”

“Yes.” Mandos paused, then muttered, “He got here first.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “You, Master, have already set Eru’s plans back by being your natural, meddling self, and interfering with the Balrog. He won’t be postponed any longer. Impatient bugger.”

“Is it his plan to have Gandalf die?” Harry asked, horrified.

“Have you not been listening? The thing isn’t dead!” Mandos swiftly regained his temper, and said in a sweet voice, “Eru wouldn’t allow his pet to be taken by me; not yet. He’s probably grooming it as we speak, making it all pretty and clean for his promotion.”

“What do you mean?”

“Somebody’s got to take over for that other roguish thing. It’s so pathetic when an owner can’t control his own creations. So amusing…”

Still baffled, for his mind was too rattled to make sense of Death’s words, but somewhat consoled, Harry asked once more for reassurance. “So, Gandalf will be alright then?”

Mandos turned his wandering attention back to Harry with narrowed eyes. “My, my, so concerned with others today, aren’t we? Funny that, when you can’t even see the signs of a grander evil right in front of you. Signs you learned so well during your fourth year of schooling. ‘They’re never the same, but close enough to pass under the untrained eye’.”

Harry was about to prod for further clarification, when suddenly he saw Merry’s eyes in the face of Victor Krum during the Triwizard Tournament. In the face of several wizards he had seen under the Unforgivable during the war and in memories from Death Eater trials.

“Imperio,” he breathed. “But how could Saruman- how could anyone know-”

“Yes,” Mandos nodded in agreement, stepping behind Harry, leaning down until his forehead rested against the hair above Harry’s right ear. “There _is_ only one place that contains the knowledge from your Wizarding World here. A place the bad pet would have to find in order to discover the brother to my curse, as well as other toys to tinker with. How concerning…”

Harry apperated to the Forest of Fangorn, his home, without another word.


	15. Interlude: Harry’s Adventures- Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Important Notice: No animals were harmed in the making of this interlude. Except Manny. It’s in his contract. Silly thing didn’t have Harry read it to him before signing.

Special Thanksgiving Episode

“Today is Thanksgiving.”

Manny tried to raise his head to glare at Harry, then deemed the movement too much effort and flopped back down. He raised the tip of his tail instead, a habit he’d gotten into doing whenever he was pissed after Harry explained to him the "two-fingered salute". Disappointed and then morally outraged that an obscene gesture was limited to only the phalanges-privileged, Manny adopted the American version, the middle finger, and reasoned he only had one appendage that could constitute as a finger, and therefore flicking his tail up in an authoritative manner was equivalent to flipping off an offender. Harry had become skilled in distinguishing between the signal for a bathroom break, nap twitches, general upward tail swishes indicating boredom, and this anger-fueled action.

**< If this is an attempt to fabricate a holiday from your old world so that I will “give thanks” to you, then I’m calling cock poppy. We just celebrated your “Halloween”, and I’m still skeptical its legitimate. I mean, who would actually let their hatchlings wander around at night in stupid costumes begging for candy from strangers in the middle of autumn? I only went along with it because you made me that avian exterminator costume that accented all my best features; plus, we skipped the begging part and pranked the living daylights out of the forest. Or least we _would_ have if you’d gone along with my plan— >**

“Eating eggs from a nest is not a prank; its murder and I wasn’t about to help you with it. You want eggs? Get them on your own. And the correct term is “poppycock”. The other way around just sounds _wrong_.”

**< It is my nature, not murder. Well, maybe it is, but I can’t help it. I need to eat. Uhggg, can we not talk about food? I’m so hungry right now, I’d eat a mouse that’d been out in the sun too long. Just swallow it down and imagine it was part of Hedwig.>**

“That is what I’m saying!” Harry sprung from his spot on the grass, wobbled slightly from his empty stomach, then began shakily pacing. “Thanksgiving Day is all about food!”

**< Really?> **Manny asked hopefully. ** <Because that’s not what is sounds like.>**

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be a day to give thanks for all the good fortune you’ve received that year, but most families use it as an excuse to cook a ton of food and throw a party. Capitalism at its finest.”

**< … Tell me more.>**

“Alright. So, we’re going to need a turkey, some potatoes, corn—preferable still on the cob—and cranberries. I really like cranberries. They were always the first dish I grabbed at the Thanksgiving feasts at Hogwarts.”

**< Riiiight. And where are we going to get those ingredients. Are we going to steal them? Can you magic them into existence? Or are we just going to sit here and picture how tasty that food would be?> **

Harry deflated. “Ah… I haven’t thought of all the logistics yet.” He looked around them. The forest was silent in the midday; every creature probably abandoned the area during the battle that had taken place between Harry and the fourth orc party he’d come across that week.

“Well, first we should probably move away from all these corpses. It… doesn’t smell the most pleasant here.”

**< Agreed.>**

The pair walked and slithered, respectively, away from the bloodied ground. Harry pondered his dilemma as they traveled. There were plenty of farms just outside of the forest they could liberate a few vegetables from without notice, and he could leave copper pieces on the doorstep as compensation. But a turkey… He hadn’t seen any of the flightless birds since coming to Middle Earth. He could substitute it for another animal, but all the forest creatures were long gone, and Harry wasn’t in the mood for hunting anyways. The earlier battle, while not overly taxing since he was getting more practiced at taking on the hordes and the orcs weren’t getting any smarter, did serve to remind him he hadn’t eaten much in the last few days. Traveling and fighting and bantering with Manny was taking up all his focus, and now he was paying for it. And Manny’s complaints were not helping.

**< Haaaarry, I’m so hungry! Feed your snake! Give me the feast of the Thanksgiving! I’s wants it’s. Harrrrrrry!>**

A brilliant insight came to Harry as the fifth “r” in his name broke his patience. He turned to his snake with a glint in his eyes. Manny paused and then lowered himself fully to the ground.

**< Uh, please?>**

“I’ve never had snake before. Say, Manny, do you taste like turkey, or more like chicken?”

**< …>**

“C’mon, don’t disappoint. You taste like turkey, right?”

Manny darted away, and the chase began. Harry followed closely behind his snake as Manny weaved under roots and over beds of orange and brown leaves in a mad dash, wand and sword forgotten in the absence of sincere intent.

Eventually, hunger and panic teamed up and drove Manny headfirst into a tree that came out of nowhere. He was dazed for a moment, and that was all Harry needed to catch his snake. One hand wrapped around his tail, the other near his head to keep him from biting.

**< Wait, wait! Don’t eat me! Look there’s a turkey right behind you! There’s a—oh, there actually is something there. What the hell is that thing?>**

Harry snorted at Manny’s attempt at diversion, but more insistence convinced him to turn his head slightly to look behind him. He dropped his snake in surprise.

There, merely meters away from him, stood a calm, fat turkey pecking at the ground.

“It’s… beautiful. It’s a Thanksgiving miracle!”

Manny whimpered and tightened his hold around Harry’s left ankle in response.

~ One Hour Later ~

**< You know Manny, I’m really thankful I didn’t eat you.>**

**< Aww, Harry. I’m thankful I have such a big heart that I can forgive you for choosing me over that winged feathered rat in the sky as the main course in your amicicide banquet.>**

**< You were closer and therefore more easily accessible.>  **

**< Don’t test the boundaries of my munificence.>**

Underneath a pile of leaves next to where the glorious turkey appeared, unnoticed by either human or snake while they enjoyed their dinner, was a note.

_Dear Master,_

_Enjoy your Thanksgiving to the best of your ability. This time next year, the world could be engulfed in fire and despair; I doubt crops will be as plentiful then. Humans are lazy, selfish creatures that way. Kill a few thousand of them, and their productivity per capita plummets._

_Sincerely,_

_Mandos_

_PS – that snake is mine to destroy. Please do not encroach upon my claim again. One day, **Manny**_ , _you will feel my wrath. One day…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 is in progress. Coming soon.


End file.
